Cfte  JLibrarp 

of  m 

([Inftier0ftp  of  Boztb  Carolina 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


ENDOWED  BY  THE 

DIALECTIC  AND  PHILANTHROPIC 

SOCIETIES 


PS3503 
.A33 

M35 
1904 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


00008156522 


This  book  is  due  at  the  WALTER  R.  DAVIS  LIBRARY  on 
the  last  date  stamped  under  "Date  Due."  If  not  on  hold  it 
may  be  renewed  by  bringing  it  to  the  library. 

DATE 

DUE                              "^'- 

DATE 

DUE                             ^^'^- 

MAY  1  3  19 

)3 

-,  ■  '■-''^ 

is-gz 

WUn  0  > 

f  1998 

\ 


v% 


i$ 


Mammy  Rosie 


99 


BY 

ALBERT  MORRIS  BAGBY 


Author  of  "Miss  Traumerei' 


AI,I,  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


Published  by  thk  Author 

i8  West  34th  Street 

New  York 

1904 


Copyright,  1904 
By  Albert  Morris  Bagby 


o 


Contents 


CHAPTER  I.  PAGE 

RosiE  Finds  a  Home 3 

CHAPTER  H. 
RosiE  IN  Society 17 

CHAPTER  HI. 
RosiE  Becomes  Reminiscent 33 

CHAPTER  IV. 
RosiE  Meets  Old  Friends 45 

CHAPTER  V. 
RosiE  Sits  for  a  Portrait , , ..    5;^ 

CHAPTER  VI. 
RosiE  Attempts  a  Parable. 79 

CHAPTER  VII. 
Rosie  at  Newport 99 


0=,         ,  \ 


^v 


^ 


CHAPTER  VIII.  PAGE 

ROSIE   AT   THE   WaLDORF I23 

I. — THE  CHARITY  CONCERT I23 

II. THE  PRIMA-DONNA 1 53 

III. — THE    RED    SCREEN I76 

CHAPTER  IX. 

RosiE  Gets  Into  Print 191 

CHAPTER  X. 

RosiE  Has  a  Set-Back 207 

CHAPTER  XL 

ROSIE  AT  THE  MaISOX  LeROUX 23 1 

I. — THE  POKER  PARTY 23I 

II. — A  FULL  HOUSE 244 

III. — A   ROYAL  FLUSH 254 

CHAPTER  XIL 

RosiE  Bargains  for  a  Halo 279 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

RosiE  Plans  for  a  Wedding 301 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

RosiE  Hears  the  Cherubim 315 


MAMMY     ROSIE 


CHAPTER  I. 

ROSIE  FINDS   A   HOME. 


"I*s  hen  a  fine  seamstress;  hut  my  eyes  is 
done  give  out  an'  I  thought  I'd  like  to  keep  a 
respectable  bachelde/s  depahtment." 

''So  you  may,  if  you  like.  How  soon  can  you 
come?" 

'7  can  stay." 
********* 

'7  reckon  dis  ole  cat  done  Ian'  on  'er  feet  when 
de  good  Lawd  done  drap  'er  'foh  dis  Hat-house, 
¥es,  she  did.    She  suhtainly  did," 


CHAPTER  I. 

ROSIE  FINDS  A   HOME. 

"Well !  If  I  could  get  a  right  good  nigger  to 
keep  house  for  me — I  don't  mean  a  coloured 
person,  but  a  right  good  nigger — I  think  I  'd  take 
it." 

"Excuse  me,  sir,  I  'm  only  the  janitor ;  but  I  'd 
like  to  shake  your  hand.  No  one  but  p.  south- 
erner could  pronounce  'nigger'  like  that." 

"Certainly,"  said  Thornton,  acquiescing, 
"we  've  a  way  of  recognising  each  other,  have  n't 
we?" 

A  fortnight  later  Reginald  Thornton  found 
himself  installed  in  his  new  apartment  with  all 
the  appurtenances  of  luxury  and  comfort  save 
the  much  desired  "nigger."  However,  this  dif- 
ficulty was  quickly  overcome,  for  the  janitor,  in 
his  gratification  at  being  of  service  to  a  gentle- 
man of  Southern  grace  and  breeding,  offered  him 
the  choice  of  two  genuine  "black  pearls."     Al- 

3 


4  MAMMY  ROSIE 

though  accustomed  to  the  peculiarities  of  the 
coloured  race,  Thornton  was,  nevertheless,  some- 
what startled  and  inclined  to  laugh  when  Wil- 
liam, the  front-elevator  bo^.-,  ushered  in  a  mam- 
moth negress  of  five-and-twenty,  attired  in  the 
extreme  of  fashion  and  surmounted  by  a  broad- 
brimmed  hat  bearing  a  tuft  of  nodding  plumes. 

"Miss  Tubbs,  suh,  wants  to  do  yoh  cookin'." 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Thornton  faintly,  awed  by 
the  towering  figure.     ''Do  you  cook?" 

"They  say  I  can.  I  Ve  been  cook  at  Miss  Wil- 
liams' boarding-house  in  Fifteenth  Street  for 
two  years ;  but  the  work  is  hard  and  I  don't  get 
time  for  practising." 

"Practising?"  gasped  Thornton.  "I  should 
think  you  would  get  practice  enough  in  cooking 
for  so  large  a  family." 

"I  mean  the  piano,"  said  i\Iiss  Tubbs,  airily. 
"I  'ni  soprano  soloist  at  the  coloured  church  in 
Ninth  Avenue,  and  sing  in  concerts ;  and  I  'm 
learning  to  play  my  own  accompaniments." 

"I  fear  my  work  would  interfere  with  your 
career." 

"Oh,  no,  sir ;  I  'm  a  quick  worker,  and  I  could 
practise  on  the  piano  when  you  are  down  town." 


ROSIE  FINDS  A  HOME  5 

'I'm  a  young  man,"  said  Thornton;  "1  re- 
quire an  older  woman  than  you,  and — one  who 
is  not  comely." 

Miss  Tubbs'  dusky  countenance  presented  a 
comical  mixture  of  flattered  vanity  and  disap- 
pointment. 

''Thank  you  for  coming.     Good-night." 

"Good-night,"  faltered  Miss  Tubbs ;  but  there 
was  no  misconstruing  Thornton's  forceful, 
though  polite  dismissal,  and  she  reluctantly 
passed  out. 

Again  the  elevator  stopped  with  a  click,  and 
William  stood  in  the  entry-door.  "Here's  the 
other  lady,  suh." 

"Lady !"  sputtered  an  indignant  voice.  "Lady ! 
Is  n't  yoh  'shamed  o'  talkin'  dat  way  to  de  no- 
bility 'bout  a  black  African  niggeh  ?  Yoh  's  done 
sp'iled  my  visit!    Mule!" 

William  vanished  in  the  wake  of  a  wheezy 
guffaw,  and  the  "lady"  stood  vaguely  outlined 
in  the  dim  entry  until  bidden  to  approach. 

Silently,  austerely,  with  the  merest  inclination 
of  her  gray  head,  she  dropped  a  slight  curtsey 
and  planted  her  tall,  gaunt  figure  just  within  the 
threshold.     Her  whole   aspect,   from  the   rusty 


6  MAMMY  ROSIE 

black  of  her  bonnet  to  the  hem  of  her  ancient 
alpaca  gown,  bespoke  a  life  of  poverty  and  de- 
privation. 

Compassion  softened  Thornton's  voice  as  he 
indicated  a  chair. 

"Thank  yoh,"  she  murmured,  with  dignified 
compliance ;  and  clasping  her  hands  over  the 
crook  of  a  bulging  cotton  umbrella,  she  regarded 
him  wuth  fixed  gaze. 

"Are  you  a  cook?" 

"I  can  cook  a  little." 

Thornton  smiled.  ''You  probably  cook  very 
well." 

"I 's  ben  a  fine  seamstress ;  but  my  eyes  is 
done  give  out,  an'  I  thought  I  'd  like  to  keep  a 
respectable  bachelder's  depahtment." 

"So  you  may,  if  you  like.  How  soon  can  you 
come  ?" 

"I  can  stay." 

Thornton's  eyes  sparkled  with  suppressed 
humour;  but  the  pathetic  evidences  of  extreme 
poverty  were  ample  explanation  of  her  reply,  and 
he  proceeded  at  once  and  with  pleasurable  pride 
to  explain  the  household  routine  to  his  new 
mammy. 


ROSIE  FINDS  A  HOME  7 

But  if  the  playing  at  keeping  house  tickled 
Thornton's  fancy,  the  surprises  in  Roxana 
Landstreet's  methods  well-nigh  paralysed  it. 

A  funereal  gloom,  through  which  an  expres- 
sionless black  face  flitted  like  a  spectre,  op- 
pressed his  home  life  and  drove  him  back  to 
his  old  haunts.  His  cheery  greeting  of  ''Rosie" 
induced  only  the  wordless  response  of  a  curtsey ; 
and  his  gentle  commands  seemed  fated  to 
intensify  the  resentment  with  which  she  silently 
regarded  him. 

The  mystery,  subtle  and  deep,  which  enveloped 
Rosie  like  a  cloud,  interfered  with  Thornton's 
appetite,  and,  at  times,  even  robbed  him  of  sleep. 
His  health  and  happiness,  his  life  and  property 
perchance,  depended  upon  Rosie's  caprice. 

Thornton's  day-dreams  of  a  loving  and  lovable 
ante  helium  mammy  were  forgotten  in  the  face 
of  practical  problems. 

Finally  a  much  belated  meal,  an  explosion  of 
verbal  dynamite,  and  the  old  mammy's  panic- 
stricken  flight  to  the  kitchen,  precipitated  the  end 
of  Thornton's  forbearance  and  brought  about  the 
re-incarnation  of  Rosie. 

Seated  that  evening  in  her  low  rocker  before 


8  MAMMY  ROSIE 

the  glowing  coals  in  the  kitchen  range,  her  face 
buried  in  her  hands,  her  grizzly  head  concealed 
in  the  twists  of  a  Turkey-red  bandana,  Rosie 
moaned  a  postlude  to  the  troublous  events  of  the 
day : — 

"My  feet  wuz  set  fast  in  de  mire  an'  de  clay 
in  de  bottom  ob  de  pit ;  an'  my  eyes  could  n't  see 
up  to  de  daylight.  He  heard  de  cry  ob  de  ole 
hongry  niggth  whut  nobody  would  n't  listen  to ; 
an'  when  'e  cuss  an'  swoh,  his  righteous  wohds 
buhned  me  like  de  slave  whip :  an',  please  Gawd,  I 
done  desehved  et.  Et  's  de  only  how  to  keep 
niggehs  In  de  strait  an'  narrow  way.  He  done 
right!  He  done  right!  An'  now  de  Lawd  an' 
de  Debbil  is  j'ined  hands  to  pay  me  back  fur 
bein'  so  vile !  Dey  's  done  contrabanded  my  job ; 
an'  I 's  got  to  go  'way  ag'in  an'  drag  dis  ole 
bundle  o'  rheumatiz  frew  de  homes  ob  sin  an' 
mis'ry." 

"Rosie!"  said  Thornton,  suddenly  appearing 
in  the  doorway. 

"Lawd  save  me !"  muttered  the  old  darkey,  sit- 
ting bolt  upright  and  crossing  herself.  "My 
time's  done  come!" 

"Rosk!    Do  you  hear?" 


ROSIE  FINDS  A  HOME  9 

"Yes,  Mr.  Tho'nton."  Rising  stiffly,  she 
turned  to  him  in  penitence  and  woe. 

"Why  have  you  annoyed  me  so  persistently?" 

"Dunno !  Guess  et  's  'cause  yoh  did  n't  kick  up 
no  hurrahs  befoh,  Hke  ole  marse." 

"I  don't  Hke  to  do  that.  It  makes  me  unhappy ; 
and  I  want  you  to  be  contented  here." 

"I  is !"  exclaimed  Rosie  convulsively. 

"You  did  n't  act  so." 

"Guess  dat  's  'cause  I  minded  whut  my  ole 
great-gran'mammy  said:  'Chile,'  says  she,  'tell 
some  things  an'  keep  moh.'  So  I  says  to  myself, 
*Roxana,  I  b'lieves  yoh  is  n't  in  de  wrong  chu'ch 
an'  yoh  is  n't  in  de  wrong  pew  ef  yoh  does  dat ; 
fur  yoh  neveh  kep'  a  bachelder's  depahtment  be- 
foh an'  yoh  does  n't  know  whut  de  young  masteh 
likes.' " 

"You  know  now,"  said  Thornton,  with  a 
twinkle  which  lightened  Rosie's  mental  horizon. 
"Keep  it  in  mind  and  you  will  be  sure  of  a  good 
home." 

"I  '11  slip  down  to  Seventh  Avenue  an'  git  my 
clo'es  as  soon  as  I  reds  up  de  dinin'-room,"  said 
Rosie  chipperly.  "I  could  shoot  de  woman  whut 
kep'  my  trunk !    I  '11  take  'er  de  money  I  owes 


lo  MAMMY  ROSIE 

'er  an'  call  'er  a  miserable  ole  contraband  niggeJi. 
Dey  does  n't  half  de  niggehs  know  whut  co}i- 
traband  means,"  she  added  with  a  sly  look,  "but 
et  makes  'em  awful  mad  to  be  called  dat. 

"Yes,  I  's  gone  hongry,"  continued  Rosie  pen- 
sively, "an'  I  's  woh  rags  a-savin'  money  to  'scape 
de  nlght-doctchs  an'  have  a  decent  buryin'.  An" 
please  Gawd  et  's  done  did  ;  an'  I  is  n't  got  to  pay 
no  moh.  Ebery  godly  cent  Sallie  's  paid  me  fur 
sewin'  wxnt  to  de  ondertaker-man ;  fur  dat  ole 
roomer-woman  would  'a'  sold  my  body  to  de 
night-doctehs — night-buzzahds,  I  calls  'em — fur 
de  rent,  ef  I  had  n't  'a',  shuh." 

"Who  is  SalHe?" 

"She  's  my  cousin  whut 's  a  dressmakeh.  She 
lives  wid  Hallud  up  in  West  Sixty-second 
street." 

"Hallud!    What  is  that?" 

"Hallud?  Why,  dat 's  Sallie's  daughteh. 
Has  n't  you  read  'bout  'er  ?  Dey  's  done  published 
'er  in  de  papehs.  Shuh !  She 's  one  o'  dem 
cullud  gals  whut  wuz  tuhned  out  up  to  de  Nor- 
man College ;  only  she  is  n't,  fur  she  's  fair,  like 
'er  Ma." 

"Turned  out?     For  what?" 


ROSIE  FINDS  A  HOME  ii 

"Dey  's  done  made  'er  a  teacheh." 

"The  iVoma/ College!" 

"Dat  's  et." 

"How  old  is  Hallud?" 

"Well,  I  does  n't  know,  exac'ly ;  but  I  reckon 
she  '11  be  'bout  twenty-one  de  nex'  time  she  takes 
'er  age." 

"Hallud,  Hallud,"  he  mused ;  "never  heard 
such  a  name." 

"Reckon  yoh  's  clean  done  fohgot  yoh  Scrip- 
tures, honey.  Does  n't  yoh  mind  dat  place  in  de 
Bible  whur  et  says,  'An'  Hallud  be  thy  name  ?'  " 

"Of  course,"  cried  Thornton,  gesticulating  in 
protest  at  his  own  stupidity.  "What  is  her  family 
name  ?" 

"Dunno ;  I  calls  'er  Carteh,  like  'er  Ma's  name. 
Sallie  never  tole  me  who  Hallud's  Pa  wuz." 

"Does  n't  she  know  ?" 

"Oh,  I  'spec'  so ;  but  yoh  see,  I 's  ben  livin'  in 
Washin'ton,  an'  Sallie,  she  's  had  nine  husbands." 

"Nine  husbands  !  Good  Heavens  !  What  did 
she  do  with  them?" 

"Oh,  she  jes'  fed  an'  slep'  'em  till  dey  died." 

"Died?" 


12  MAMMY  ROSIE 

"Yes.  Dey  fell  into  de  ribber  ur  got  run  oveh 
when  dey  wuz  drunk,  ur  somep'in'." 

"They  all  died?" 

"Oh,  yes,  Mr.  Tho'nton,"  replied  Rosie  with 
great  dignity.  "Sallie  ain't  no  New  Yohkeh.  She 
buried  her  husbands." 

"She  could  n't  have  remained  a  widow  very 
long  at  a  time." 

"  'Deed  she  did  n't !  De  mos'  wuz  fur  two 
months!"  exclaimed  Rosie,  with  pride.  "Sallie 
always  had  luck  gittin'  husbands,  an'  gittin'  rid 
ob  'em,  too,  when  dey  got  too  lazy  ;  'ceptin'  once — 
an'  dat  wuz  Jones.  Gawd  knows  how  she  eveh 
come  to  take  a  coal-black  African  niggeh  like 
him — a  tasty  woman  like  Sallie — fur  de  rest  ob 
'em  wuz  fair  like  huhself.  She  tole  me,  bein' 
as  et  wuz  wah-times,  dey  wuz  n't  no  pickin's ; 
an'  she  had  to  take  jes'  whut  she  could  git. 
Humph !  Guess  I  'd  gone  widout  'till  moh  yalleh 
ones  'ad  growed  up ;  an'  she  wuz  sorry  she 
had  n't  'a'  wid  all  de  scand'lous  goin's  on  'fob 
she  got  shet  ob  'im." 

"Tell  me  that  another  time,  or  I  shall  be  late 
for  the  play,"  said  Thornton,  beaming  with  de- 
light at  the  new-found  "mammy." 


ROSIE  FINDS  A  HOME  13 

"All  right,  honey,  I  will,"  exclaimed  Rosie, 
following  him  to  the  outer  door.  ''Now,  have 
a  good  time  an'  don't  let  de  elected  cahs  run 
oveh  yoh. 

''De  blessed  Lawd  is  suhtainly  come  into  de 
wildehness  to  nuhse  'is  stahvin'  chile  back  to 
life,"  mused  she  in  regaining  her  domain. 

Raising  a  window  and  catching  up  a  broom, 
she  made  with  it  the  sign  of  the  cross.  "Shoo! 
You  ole  Debbil.  Git  out !"  she  cried,  viciously 
beating  the  air.  "De  Lawd  done  drap  yoh  sas- 
siety !  He  don't  paddle  wid  yoh  in  yoh  canoe  no 
moh !  He  's  jes'  tickled  to  death  wid  de  young 
masteh.  Humph !  Whut  backin's  dey  '11  give 
Roxana!  Won't  I  sass  dat  ole  contraband 
niggeh  good  now! 

"Debbil !  Don't  come  back  heah  no  moh,"  she 
hissed  at  the  night  as  she  slammed  the  window 
and  secured  the  fastening ;  "fur  de  young  masteh 
won't  let  yoh  in. 

"Sing  on  !  Sing  on  !"  she  cried,  turning  exul- 
tantly to  the  little  clock  ticking  merrily  on  the 
shelf.  "But  don't  crack  yoh  sides :  fur  den  yoh 
can't  whistle  me  up  in  de  mawnin'  to  git  break- 
fus'   fur   de  honey   chile !      Now   mind   yoh !   I 


14  MAMMY  ROSIE 

does  n't  want  yoh  to  be  gittin'  into  no  mischief 
while  I  *s  out.  Don't  staht  de  week's  washin', 
fur  Gawd's  sake." 

Then  a  change  came  over  IMammy  Rosie's 
spirit  as  she  turned  down  the  gas  and,  deep  in 
reflection,  Hngered  a  moment  in  the  uncertain 
light. 

''Yes,"  she  concluded  with  a  tremor  in  her 
voice,  '*yes,  I  reckon  dis  ole  cat  done  Ian'  on  'er 
feet  when  de  good  Lawd  done  drap  'er  'foh  dis 
flat-house.    Yes,  she  did.     She  suhtainly  did." 


CHAPTER  11. 

ROSIE   IN   SOCIETY. 


"My  Lazvd!  Why  dat*s  de  red  nobility  whut 
me  an'  yoh  's  had  heah  to-day.  I  did  n't  know  we 
wuz  in  Sasssiety.    Huh?" 

"0/z^  deah!"  sighed  Rosie,  lost  in  meditation 
over  the  soothing  teacup.  ''When  yoh 's  caught 
in  yoh  dirty  tricks,  how  tryin'  et  is.    My  LawdT 


»5 


CHAPTER  II. 

ROSIE  IN  SOCIETY. 

"Heah!  Git  up!  Git  right  up!"  called  Rosie 
on  Sunday  morning.  "My  nose  itches  right  on 
de  end  ;  an'  dat  means  a  man  an'  woman  's  comin', 
an'  fum  de  way  de  ketchen  wall 's  crackin'  dey  '11 
be  heah  befoh  yoh  's  eat  breakfus'.  Now  hurry 
up ;  fur  I  is  n't  goin'  to  cook  fur  no  moh  nur 
whut  's  comin'  to  lunch  to-day.  'Deed  I  is  n't. 
'Deed  I  is  n't  dat  niggeh,"  she  muttered,  shuffling 
down  the  corridor. 

"Oh,  my  Lawd,"  sighed  Rosie,  as  she  ap- 
peared with  the  breakfast  tray,  "I  does  n't  know 
whut  'tis;  but  somepin'  awful 's  goin'  to 
happen." 

"What  is  the  matter?" 

"I 's  done  gone  dremp  'bout  eggs." 

"What  does  that  mean?" 

"Bad  luck!  Miserable  luck!  Why  when  Miss 
Mary  dremp  o'  eggs,  she  'd  go  jump  right  into 

17 


i8  MAMMY  ROSIE 

de  kerridge  an'  drive  'way  to  spend  de  day ;  fur 
dere  wuz  shuh  to  be  a  row  o*  some  kind  on  de 
place  afoh  night ;  an'  et  wa  'n't  a  big  plantation 
neetheh — only  two  f amblies  livin'  on  et :  but  one 
ob  de  boys  'ud  be  shuh  to  fall  an'  crack  'is  head  or 
git  et  cracked  by  anuddeh  debbil  ob  a  boy,  or 
Aunt  Lizey  'u'd  drap  a  iron  on  'er  foot." 

''Where  was  the  plantation?" 

"In  Maryland ;  jes'  a  good  hossback  ride 
fum  Washin'ton,  whur  me  an'  Sallie  went  to  live 
when  young  marse  died  an'  left  us  ouh  freedom 
befoh  de  wah." 

"You  know  Washington  people?" 

"Humph !  Guess  dey  is  n't  nobody  whut  I 
doesn't!" 

"Mrs.  Hugh  Melrose  here  in  New  York  was  a 
Miss " 

"Warrin'ton,"  cried  Rosie.  "I  made  'er  fust 
clo'es  when  she  got  bawned.  Miss  Annie,  she 
wuz  twins ;  her  an'  Miss  Jinny.  Dey  wuz  de 
grandest  royalties  in  Washin'ton!  When  dey 
got  married  to  dem  two  ole  bruddehs,  de  Mel- 
roses,  in  Saint  Allojesuses  Chu'ch,  de  President 
an'  all  de  big  bugs  wuz  dere ;  an'  deir  Pa,  de 
great  Gin'ral  Warrin'ton,  wid  'is  apple-ettes  a- 


ROSIE  IN  SOCIETY  19 

stickin'  out  so — like  little  bob-tail  wings — took 
'em  down  de  aisle." 

**Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frank  Melrose  are  dead  now." 

"But  de  rich  Melrose  heah,  he  ain't ;  ole  as  'e 
is,"  said  Rosie  with  bitterness.  "Does  yoh  know 
why  ?  'Cause  dey  ain't  no  place  fur  'im  to  go  to ; 
dey  won't  have  'im  nowhur:  an'  him  a  hund'ed 
yeahs  ole,  too!  He's  jes'  dat  wicked  dat  ole 
Be'lzebub  won't  have  'im  fur  feah  'e  '11  sp'ile  de 
folks  whut  's  already  in  Hell !    Umph  !" 

"Mrs.  Frank  Melrose  left  a  daughter,"  re- 
marked Thornton. 

"Little  Miss  Jinny!"  cried  Rosie. 

"She  's  a  }Oung  lady  now." 

"Dat  baby?  MyLawd!  My  Lawd!  Dese  is 
queer  times!  Whut 's  gotten  into  de  chillun? 
Dey  did  n't  grow  so  fas'  when  I  wuz  a  gal !" 

"Her  uncle  and  aunt  have  adopted  her,"  con- 
tinued Thornton.  "They  are  all  dining  here 
Thursday." 

"De  Melroses?  Thursday?  Yoh  hadn't  ought 
'a'  tole  me  dat,  chile,"  observed  Rosie,  excitedly 
shaking  her  head.  "I  can't  cook  no  dinneh  fur 
dem  folks. 

"My  Lawd !"  she  exclaimed  at  a  sharp  ring  of 


20  MAMMY  ROSIE 

the    door-bell.      "De  man  an'  woman  's    come !" 

"I  've  made  a  mess  of  it/'  mused  Thornton, 
"and  all  because  she  dreamed  of  eggs." 

''Why  do  you  hate  the  Melrose  family  so 
much  that  you  won't  cook  dinner  for  them?''  he 
anxiously  inquired  as  Rosie  placed  a  florist's 
box  before  him. 

"//a/^  de  Melrose  fambly?  Me?  Why,  chile! 
Don't  yoh  know  why  I  does  n't  cook  no  dinneh 
de  day  dey  's  heah  ?  'Cause  I  lubs  ]\Iiss  Annie  an' 
little  T^Iiss  Jinny  so  much  I  's  got  to  go  down- 
staihs  an'  stay  by  deir  sides  de  whole  time  dey  's 
in  dis  house !" 

Thornton  noticed  Rosie's  interest  in  the  box, 
and,  yielding  a  point  to  feminine  curiosity,  told 
her  to  open  it. 

*Ts  dey  fum  Miss  Jinny?"  she  asked,  upon  un- 
covering a  mass  of  exquisite  roses  and  white 
lilacs.  *'0'  co'se  dey  is.  Lawd  lub  'er  soul,  de 
sweet  little  toad!" 

"No,"  said  Thornton,  with  a  mischievous 
twinkle.    "They  are  from  a  married  lady." 

"Humph !"  grunted  Rosie,  beginning  to  fuss 
restlessly  around  the  room.     "Humph!  Oh,  dese 


ROSIE  IN  SOCIETY  21 

New  Yohkehs !  Humph  !  De  creatures !  Humph ! 
De  married  debbils  !  Humph  !" 

"This  one  's  a  widow." 

"Oh,  my  Lawd,  don't  say  nothin'  moh !  Dey  's 
wuss!  Dey  makes  lub  to  yoh!  De  creatures! 
De  widder  fools  whut  dey  is !  Humph !  I  does  n't 
see  why  dem  ole  hens  can't  keep  to  de  right 
track !  Instid  o'  dat  dey  's  de  bigges'  jackasses 
goin'!  Humph!" 

"Are  n't  you  a  widow,  Rosie  ?" 

"Yes,  thank  Gawd!  I  is!  An'  de  men! 
Umph!  Umph!  De  creatures!  De  married 
beasts  whut  dey  is !    Umph !" 

"What 's  the  matter  ?  You  seem  down  on 
everybody  to-day." 

"Guess  et  's  dem  eggs  I  dremp  'bout.  I 
knowed  somepin'  drefful  'u'd  happen.     Umph !" 

"De  poh  chile,"  droned  Rosie  the  length  of  the 
corridor,  "I  might  V  knowed  some  ole  widder 
fool  'u'd  try  to  ruin  'im  wid  flowehs  !  De  creature ! 
De  honey  chile  !  Oh,  my  Lawd,  et 's  scand'lous  ! 
Umph !" 

"Say,  dahlin',"  said  Rosie,  reappearing  on  the 
threshold,  "is  de — lady  whut  sent  dem  roses  a- 
comin'  to  lunch?" 


.22  MAMMY  ROSIE 

"I  hope  so." 

"Den  I  's  glad  dey  is  n't  no  pizen  in  de  ketchen ! 
I  suhtainly  is !''  she  continued,  shuffling  another 
retreat.  "Ur — Humph  ! — Ur  I  'd  be  a  jail-bird 
afoh  night !  Lawd  save  de  sweet  chile  funi  dat 
ole  debbil  widder !  Dey  conjures  yoh !  Dey 
does  !    'Deed  dey  does  !    Humph  !" 

A  brief  pause  ;  and  angry  mutterings  preceded 
another  visit  from  Rosie.  "Et  's  de  poh,  deali 
husbands  whut  dey  bawled  deirselves  silly  oveh 
whut  would  n't  know  'em  now  fur  de  paint  an'  de 
yalleh  hair!"  proclaimed  Rosie  from  the  door 
sill.  "Oh,  my  Lawd,  et  's  scand'lous  !  An'  whut 
makes  'em  do  et,  fur  Gawd's  sake?  Fur  de 
uddeh  women?  Uh — Uh!  Dey  does  et  fur  yoh 
an'  de  uddeh  vile  men,  to  ketch  yoh. 

"Misteh  Tho'nton,  chile,"  continued  Rosie, 
shaking  her  forefinger  impressively,  ''de  dead 
can't  come  back !  No,  dey  can't  come  back !  Fur 
ef  dey  could,  dey'  d  come  an'  do  a  piece  o'  talkin' 
to  shame  de  creatures,  an'  scrape  off  de  paint  an' 
cut  off  de  yalleh  hair  to  make  'em  look  like  picked 
birds :  fur,  wid  et  on  yoh  can't  neveh  tell  'em 
fum  de  huzzies  in  de  streets — 'ceptin'  by  de  com- 
pany dey  keeps !" 


ROSIE  IN  SOCIETY  23 

"My  widow,"  interrupted  Thornton,  foreseeing 
trouble  at  luncheon,  ''my  widow  has  snow-white 
hair." 

"Has  she !"  sputtered  Rosie  testily.  "Dat  ain't 
her  fault !  She  's  got  chillun  ur  somepin'  to  keep 
'er  straight." 

"She  has  a  grandson  as  tall  as  you." 

"Guess  dat  boy  wuz  out  skylarkin'  'round,  ur 
she  'd  dursent  send  dem  flowehs.  Uh,  uh !  De 
creature !" 

"Don't  blame  her,  Rosie,"  said  Thornton 
blandly.    "She  's  a  warm  friend  of  mine." 

"Oh !"  exclaimed  the  old  darkey,  rolling  her 
eyes.  "A  wann  friend !  Humph  !  Guess  dat 's 
so!" 

With  wise  nods  and  winks,  Rosie  shuffled 
round  the  room  intoning  her  victory:  "Uh — 
huh!  Uh— huh!  Uh— huh!" 

"Oh,  stop  it,  Rosie!"  said  Thornton,  laughing 
self-consciously.    "You  know  it  is  n't  so !" 

"Whut  yoh  'cusin'  yohself  fur?  Sinful  folks 
always  does  dat.    I  is  n't  said  nothin'." 

Reaching  the  threshold  she  cried  triumphantly, 
"But  I 's  found  out !" 

Urged  on  by  jealous  curiosity,  Rosie  prepared 


24  MAMMY  ROSIE 

luncheon  with  unwonted  celerity,  and  was  wait- 
ing in  the  entry  when  the  cHcking  of  the  elevator 
announced  the  coming  of  the  first  guest,  Mrs. 
Parkinson,  a  small  blonde  of  youthful  forty  with 
just  a  touch  of  colour  on  her  cheeks. 

"You  are  Rosie?"  she  said,  looking  up  with  a 
friendly  smile.  "  I  have  heard  of  you." 

"Yes,  Miss." 

"What  a  sweet  place!"  cried  Mrs.  Parkinson, 
ignoring  her  frigid  reception.  "But  what  are 
you  doing  with  a  stairw^ay  in  an  apartment?" 

"That  leads  to  the  kitchen  and  sleeping  rooms 
at  the  rear,"  spoke  Thornton,  coming  from  the 
library  with  a  cordial  greeting. 

"I  should  so  love  to  see  them." 

"Certainly.  Is  my  room  in  order  ?"  he  inquired 
in  low  tones  of  Rosie,  who  posed  like  a  model  for 
Tragedy,  with  one  hand  still  on  the  door,  as  if 
urging  the  departure  of  the  unwelcome  guest. 

"Yoh  bed  ain't  made,"  she  replied  stiffly. 

"Then  go  make  it,  quick ;  and  call  me  when  to 
bring  Mrs.  Parkinson  up.  We  will  wait  here  in 
the  entry." 

They  were  seated  on  a  low  settle  before  the 
open  door  when  Rosie  reappeared  at  the  head  of 


ROSIE  IN  SOCIETY  25 

the  stairs.  Two  other  guests,  stepping  from  the 
elevator  at  that  moment,  heard  her  cry  with  sar- 
donic humour: 

'Walk  right  up.  Miss ;  de  bed  's  all  ready !" 

"White  hair!"  muttered  Rosie,  closing  the 
kitchen  door  to  keep  out  the  visitors  and  the 
noise  of  their  mirth.  "Gran'muddeh !  Humph! 
De  huzzy!  De  men!  De  men  beasts  whut  dey 
is !  Dey  's  all  alike,  de  vile  wretches !  Oh,  my 
Gawd,  I 's  got  to  swoller  some  tea  ur  I  can't 
neveh  git  down  dem  steps  no  moh !" 

Stubborn  resentment  of  the  fancied  deception 
and  indignity  practised  by  Thornton,  dulled 
Rosie's  senses  during  the  early  part  of  the  meal. 
A  devilish  spirit  of  revenge  incited  her  to 
respond  in  an  audible  whisper,  when  Thornton 
made  a  third  unheeded  appeal  for  some  saucers 
which  she  had  failed  to  send  down  on  the  dumb- 
waiter :  "Does  yoh  want  me  to  expose  yoh  heah 
befoh  de  ladies?" 

"Don't  mind  Rosie,"  said  Thornton  indul- 
gently, after  a  trip  upstairs  for  the  saucers.  "Her 
rheumatism  gives  versatility  to  her  humour." 

His  patient  words  and  the  unmistakable  gentle 
breeding  of  the   guests    slowly   cleared   Rosie's 


26  MAMMY  ROSIE 

mental  vision :  and  it  was  a  very  dignified,  though 
penitent,  old  mammy  that  finally  emerged  from 
the  pantry,  as  Thornton  said  softly:  ''She 
does  n't  know  which  it  is.'' 

"Rosie,"  called  an  imposing  matron,  whose 
snow-white  hair  had  hitherto  escaped  the 
darkey's  notice,  ''you  have  arranged  my  flowers 
with  so  much  taste,  I  have  asked  ]\Ir.  Thornton 
to  let  you  show  my  butler  liovr  }'ou  do  it." 

"Oh,  thank  you,  Madam,''  she  replied  meekly 
with  her  most  gracious  curtsey,  "I  am  shuh  yoh 
must  be  a  southe'n  lady." 

"Oh,  deah!"  sighed  Rosie,  lost  in  meditation 
over  the  soothing  teacup.  "When  yoh  's  caught 
in  yoh  dirty  tricks,  how  tryin'  et  is !    ]\ly  Lawd !" 

"Hello!"  cried  Thornton,  fresh  from  his  de- 
parting guests.  "What  now?  A  moral  katzen- 
jammer?'' 

"Ef  et 's  somepin'  right  bad,  I  guess  I  's  got  et," 
moaned  Rosie.  "Honey,"  she  said,  looking  him 
sheepishly  in  the  eyes,  "de  good  Lawd  done 
•p'inted  one  day  in  de  yeah  fur  all  de  folks  to  be 
jackasses.  Does  yoh  mind  readin'  'bout  et  in  de 
Bible?" 


ROSIE  IN  SOCIETY  27 

"I  don't  recall  it,"  said  Thornton  gravely. 
"Where  is  it?" 

*'Dunno,"  said  Rosie.  "My  ole  great-gran'- 
mammy  tole  me.  'Chile/  says  she,  'when  de 
Lawd  made  de  Yarth  fur  Adam  an'  Eve  he 
thimk  et  'nough :  but  jes'  like  yoh  an'  all  de 
uddeh  chillun  dey  wanted  moh.  So  ole  sarpent 
Satan  he  sneaked  'em  off  to  de  Lawd's  best  apple 
tree  whut  'e  done  hid  fur  'isself;  an'  when  dey 
done  gobbled  apples  fit  to  bust,  dey  hea'd  de 
Lawd  callin'  'em.  Dey  tried  to  run  'way  an' 
wuz  so  full  dey  tumbled  on  de  ground  wid  de 
turriblest  stummick-aches  whut  neveh  wuz  n't 
befoh  o'  sence. 

"  'He  knowed  Adam  an'  Eve  wuz  n't  all  bad, 
ef  dey  wuz  n't  all  good.;  but  'e  had  to  stop  'em 
fum  goin'  on  moh  toots  somehow.  So  'e  tole 
'em  dey  could  have  Thanksgivin',  an'  Christmas, 
an'  New  Yeahs  an'  de  Fou'th  o'  July  fur  carryin' 
on  decent  like,  ef  dey  'd  do  all  deir  cussedness 
in  one  day.  Dat  all  happened  de  Fust  o'  April. 
Dat  's  why  et 's  Fool's  Day  now :  an'  ef  yoh 
fohgits  et,  yoh  's  shuh  to  be  one  anuddeh  day.' 
Dis  day  wuz  mine!" 
"No,"  said  Thornton  gently,  shaking  his  head, 


28  MAMMY  ROSIE 

"it  was  your  good  day.  You  learned  a  whole- 
some lesson,  and  you  made  us  laugh  away  sorrow 
and  care." 

''Guess  dat  nice  ]\Iisteh  Dick  done  laff  'way  de 
mosV'  exclaimed  Rosie,  with  relaxed  counte- 
nance. "He  jes'  cracked  'is  sides.  An  de  lovely 
widder-madam :  whut  is  'er  name  ?" 

"Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke." 

"Not  de  great  royalty  whut  lives  down  de 
street?" 

"The  same." 

"De  queen  ob  'em  all  ?" 

"Yes,  if  any  woman  is." 

"i\Iy  Lawd !  Why  dat 's  de  real  nobility  whut 
me  an'  yoh  's  had  heah  to-day !  I  did  n't  know 
we  wuz  in  Sassiet}'!" 

"What  did  you  expect?" 

"Well,  dahlin',  I  wuz  a  ole  fool.  I  wuz  jes' 
'spectin'  to  pack  my  trunk  an'  git,  ef  I  did  n't 
'prove  o'  yoh  lady  frens.  Bachelders  raises  sech 
huzzas !  An'  I  does  n't  ea'n  my  bread  in  no  dissi- 
pated house.  No  suh  !  Yoh  need  n't  ax  me  to ! 
I  ea'ns  et  outside !" 

"Were  n't  the  ^lelroses  guarantee  of  my  re- 
spectability ?"  inquired  Thornton  humorously. 


ROSIE  IN  SOCIETY  29 

"I  did  n't  know  ef  yoh  knowed  moh  like  Vm. 
Yoh  men  is  vile,  yoh  is !    Yoh  's  vile." 

*'Why,  Rosie !"  exclaimed  Thornton,  genuinely 
wounded  by  her  rancour.  "Is  that  your  opinion 
of  me?" 

"Co'se  not,  co'se  not,  chile !  I  does  n't  mean 
yoh!  I  mean  yoh  men!  Yoh  's  vile,  yoh  men  is ! 
'Deed  yoh  is !  Vile !  Et  's  lucky  fur  yoh  dat  yoh  's 
got  Roxana  heah  to  keep  yoh  decent  an'  clean! 
She  'II  take  care  ob  de  nobility  fur  yoh !  Uh — 
huh!  Seventh  Avenue  don't  see  her  no  moh! 
Sech  vile  niggehs  as  dey  is  dere!" 

"One  minute!"  interrupted  Thornton.  "Can't 
you  get  one  of  them  to  serve  dinner  on  Thurs- 
day?" 

Rosie's  head  sank  humbly  and  her  voice  fal- 
tered :  "Dat 's  my  punishment  fur  bein'  a  fool  to- 
day. My  bones  done  tole  me  yoh  would  n't  trust 
me  no  moh  in  de  dinin'-room  wid  de  nobility. 
I  won't  act  dat  way  no  moh,  honey,"  said  Rosie 
imploringly.  "I 's  a  house-niggeh,  ef  I  is  a 
mule ;  an'  dese  New  Yohk  niggehs  is  fum  de 
cawn-fiel's  an'  de  woods.  Dey  is  n't  had  no 
leamin'.  Why  befoh  de  wah,  us  house-niggehs 
wuz  jes'  as  'ristocratic  as  ouh  white  relatives. 


30  MAMMY  ROSIE 

We  did  n't  'sociate  wid  no  black  leavln's !  'Deed 
we  didn't!" 

''It  is  unfortunate,"  persisted  Thornton,  think- 
ing of  his  best  interests,  "but  we  must  have  assist- 
ance.    Can  you  provide  it?" 

"Yes,"  sighed  Rosie.  "I  knows  a  yalleh  gal, 
Peachy,  whut  does  dat.  Oh,  my  Gawd  I  I 's 
got  to  have  anuddeh  swoUer  o'  tea  to  fohgit  'er !" 

"Please  don't!"  cried  Thornton  earnestly.  "I 
want  Peachy  here  on  Tuesday.  Mr.  Wynne 
is  coming  to  dinner.    W^e  '11  try  her  on  him  first." 

"Whut  Mr.  Wynne?" 

"Mr.  Dick,  who  was  here  to-day — Mr.  Dick 
Wynne." 

"Wuz  'is  i\Ia  a  Carroll?" 

"Yes." 

"Thank  Gawd!"  exclaimed  Rosie,  perceptibly 
moved.  "Roxana  's  wid  'er  own  kind  ag'in. 
Honey,  obery  cloud  does  n't  rain.  De  sky  w^uz  all 
black  when  I  lef  Seventh  Avenue.  Yoh  's  done 
tuhned  et  all  blue  fur  me.  Ef  yoh  is  a  bachelder, 
yoh  's  a  decent  one  1" 


CHAPTER  III. 

ROSIE  BECOMES   REMINISCENT. 


"Poh  Dr.  May,  he 's  settin*  up  in  Hebben  to- 
day a-cussin'  dem  boxes." 
********* 

"Yoh  's  jes'  like  Misteh  Jinkinses  second  wife. 
She  zvus  a  ole  maid;  an'  when  she  come  a- 
prancin'  in  wid  'er  new  laws,  she  reared  mos* 
out  o'  de  top  o'  de  house.'* 


31 


CHAPTER  III. 

ROSIE    BECOMES    REMINISCENT. 

A  typical  African  laugh,  insistent  as  a 
donkey's  bray,  though  less  strident,  reverberated 
in  the  corridor  and  startled  Thornton. 

"Whua!  Whua!  Whua!  Whua!"  screamed 
Rosie,  as  the  grocer's  boy  turned  his  puzzled  gaze 
from  the  open-mouthed  paper  bag  under  his  arm 
to  the  pool  of  crushed  eggs  at  the  elevator  door. 
*'Dem  egg-shells  '11  be  elegant  fur  settlin'  coffee ! 

"My  Lawd,  chile,"  said  Rosie,  coming  in  with 
the  breakfast-tray,  "I  is  n't  had  as  much  fun  be- 
foh,  sence  de  day  when  I  got  bawned." 

''Ftm  the  day  you  were  born?  What  do  you 
mean  ?" 

"I  means  I  wuz  so  glad  to  be  bawned.  I  loves 
life,  does  n't  yoh  ?  I  reckon  dey  is  n't  no  too  much 
fun  a-pokin'  'round  up  in  Hebben  wid  all  dem 
pious  folks.  Dey  is  n't  gay  'nough  fur  me.  'Deed 
dey  isn't!" 

33 


34  MAMMY  ROSIE 

"You  should  say,  'I  have  n't  had  as  much  fun 
since  I  was  born,'  "  observed  Thornton. 

''Now,  look  y'  heah,  chile;  yoh  neveh  had 
none  befoh,  did  yoh  ?  So  whut  's  de  use  o'  talkin' 
dat  way,  fur  Gawd's  sake?  Now  jes'  look  at 
dat,"  she  continued  in  disgust,  holding  up  a  rasp- 
berry box.  ''Dey  '11  soon  be  up  to  de  top  wid  de 
bottoms  ob  de  things,  bless  Gawd,  ef  dey  keeps 
on  settin'  de  bottoms  higher." 

'That  is  true,"  observed  Thornton.  'There  is 
already  more  space  underneath  than  in  the  top." 

"Et  used  to  make  Dr.  May  so  mad  when  'e  'd 
go  to  buy  'em,"  said  Rosie,  intent  upon  the  shal- 
low depth  of  the  box.  "Poh  Dr.  ]\Iay !  He  's 
settin'  up  in  Hebben  to-day  a-cussin'  dem  boxes ! 

"Is  yoh  goin'  down  town?"  inquired  Rosie, 
squinting  her  eyes  at  the  sun. 

"Yes.    Why?" 

"Well,  ef  yoh  's  goin',  yoh  'd  betteh  go  befoh  et 
gits  hot:  fur  et 's  jes'  as  hot  as  et  can  be  now. 
I 's  got  to  .go,  too!" 

"Down-town  ?" 

"An  ole  niggeh  like  me?  No,  suh!  I  knows 
how  to  paddle  my  own  canoe  :  but  I  does  n't  trust 
myself  whur  all  dem  vile  men  is  !  No,  suh  !  'Deed 


ROSIE  BECOMES  REMINISCENT    35 

L  does  n't !  I  ' s  goin'  oveh  to  Bloomin'dale's  to 
buy  myself  a  paih  o'  fifty-cent  cawsets.  Mine  's 
woh  out ;  an'  I  can't  take  nothin'  o'  my  clo'es  off, 
widout  takin'  cole ;  an'  I  won't  put  on  my  Sun- 
day cawsets.  Dey  is  too  good!  Miss  Smith, 
whut  's  now  in  Paris,  gib  'em  to  me ;  an'  dey 
cost  two  ur  three  dollahs  a  paih,  too — so  dey 
did !  No,  suh-ee !  I  is  n't  goin'  to  weah  dem 
Sunday  cawsets  dis  week-day,  ef  Mr.  Dick  is 
comin'.    How  's  'is  Maf    How  is  Miss  Lizzie?" 

''Not  very  well.  They  've  taken  a  place  at 
Westbury." 

"Is  'e  got  to  go  out  dere  ebery  night,  fur 
Gawd's  sake  ?    Why  does  n't  'e  sleep  wid  us  ?" 

"Ask  him." 

The  following  day  Rosie  entered  the  dining- 
room  as  Peachy,  a  quick-eyed,  intelligent  mulatto 
girl,  carried  in  the  post-prandial  coffee. 

" Whur  's  yoh  sleepin'  to-night,  Mr.  Dick  ?" 
inquired  Rosie,  after  amusing  the  two  young 
men  with  reminiscences  of  the  CarroUs  and  the 
Wynnes. 

"At  the  club." 

"De  club?    Is  n't  dat  an  awful  place?'* 

"Sometimes." 


36  MAMMY  ROSIE 

*'Den,  why  does  n't  yoh  stay  wid  us  ?  We  '11 
git  out  de  trundle-bed,  an' " 

"Oh,  ]\Iiss  Rosie,"  interposed  Peachy,  who 
already  considered  herself  one  of  the  household, 
you  know  there  is  a  lovely  spare  room  upstairs." 

"An' — "  continued  Rosie,  with  perceptible  dis- 
approval of  Peachy's  interruption,  "I  '11  gib  yoh 
de  bes'  Southe'n  breakfus' !'' 

"I  am  sure  of  that,  Rosie :  but  this  hot  weather 
I  've  taken  to  bread  and  milk." 

"Yoh  can  have  dat,  too,"  cried  Rosie  with 
boundless  hospitality.  "Good  home-made  bread, 
an' — good  home-made  milk!" 

"I  '11  send  my  bag  'round  on  Thursday," 
laughed  Dick.  "Mr.  Thornton  has  been  good 
enough  to  invite  me  for  dinner." 

"Wid  Miss  Annie  an'  little  Miss  Jinny?  Won't 
dey  be  glad  to  see  yoh !" 

"Now,  Mr.  Dick,"  said  Rosie,  at  parting,  "do 
be  ca'eful  o'  yohself  an'  gib  my  lub  to  yoh 
Ma!  Good-night."  At  the  threshold  she  fal- 
tered and  turned  in  evident  embarrassment. 
"Misteh  Dick,  I  hope  yoh  's  fohgot  how  scand'lous 
I  behaved  Sunday.  Ef  I  'd  only  knowed  who  yoh 
all   wuz!"    she   sighed.     "Yoh   see,   bachelders 


KOSIE  BECOMES  REMINISCENT    37 

always  has  deir  biggest  hurrahs  on  Sunday.  An' 
]\Ir.  Tho'nton  did  n't  'splain  to  me.  Oh,  please 
don't  laff  at  'im,  Misteh  Dick.  He  does  'is  best; 
an'  I 's  heah  now  to  keep  'im  in  de  right  track! 
Good-night!  An'  please  don't  fohgit  to  gib  my 
lub  to  yoh  Ma !" 

^^  "Say  Peach)',"  said  Rosie,  entering  the  kitchen, 
"yoh  does  n't  mind  a  ole  jackass  like  I  tellin'  yoh 
somepin',  does  yoh  ?" 

"Of  course  not,  Aliss  Rosie,"  replied  the 
mulatto,  already  thrice  primed  with  the  old 
darkey's  strongest  tea  and  tales  of  her  present 
grandeur  carefully  embellished  for  Seventh  Ave- 
nue circles. 

"Don't  neveh  tell  de  nobility  de  troof.  Dey 
ain't  used  to  et ;  an'  dey  does  n't  like  et !  Make  'em 
laff,  ur-fool  'em!  Dey  wants  de  cream,  an'  yoh 
can  have  de  milk!  Dey  isn't  got  no  time  fur 
thmkm'  an'  worryin'.  Dey  pays  uddeh  folks  to 
do  dat  fur  em !    Umph ! 

"Le'  's  have  some  moh  tea.  Elegant,  ain't  et^ 
Somebody  brung  et  fum  Chinee  fur  de  young 
masteh.  Cost  a  lot,  he  said :  an'  we  's  got  to  be 
sparin'  wid  et.  Doesn't  yoh  want  to  take  some 
to  yoh  Ma?    Heah 's  a  cupful.    Dat '11  last 'er  a 


38  MAMMY  ROSIE 

week.  Now,  I  '11  jes'  fill  dat  nice  little  bag  wid 
sugah,  an'  yoh  can  gib  'em  bof  to  'er  wid  my 
lub! 

"Tell  yoh  whut  't  is,  Peachy,  tea-drinkin'  's 
mighty  tryin',  bless  Gawd,  when  de  pot  o'  leaves 
don't  draw  no  moh  an'  gits  flat  like  ole  Miss 
Burnses  bustle !'' 

Rosie's  reminiscent  mood  made  her  wakeful, 
after  Peachy  had  gone,  and  caused  her  to  forego 
her  usual  after-dinner  nap.  Thornton  was, 
therefore,  surprised  to  see  her  putting  her  kitchen 
in  order  as  he  came  up  the  steps  on  the  way  to  his 
room. 

"Good-night,  Rosie,"  he  called.  "Peachy  is 
excellent." 

"Dat  good-fur-nothin'  sassy  niggeh?" 
snapped  Rosie.  "Whut  made  'er  chip  in  fur 
Gawd's  sake?  An'  me  not  gittin'  a  wohd  in 
edgeways  wid  Misteh  Dick.  She  's  jes'  like  'er 
Ma!  De  wench!  I  knowed  'er  jes'  afteh  de 
wah  down  in  Washin'ton." 

Encouraged  by  Thornton's  apparent  interest 
as  he  loitered  good-naturedly  in  the  doorway, 
Rosie  was  glad  to  continue :  "In  dem  days,  nig- 
gehs  went  fum  doh  to  doh  to  hire  when  deir 


ROSIE  BECOMES  REMINISCENT     39 

mastehs  couldn't  keep  'em  no  moh.  So  Mandy 
come  ringin'  de  bell  at  Jedge  Milleh's;  an'  de 
butleh  brung  'er  into  de  sewin'-room  whur  I 
wuz  wid  de  madam  a-makin'  de  nex'  baby's 
clo'es. 

"  'Whut  can  yoh  do  ?'  de  madam  axed. 

"  'Dunno,'  says  Mandy. 

"  *Can  yoh  cook  ?' 

"'No,  mam!' 

"  'Can  yoh  wait  on  de  table  ?* 

"'No,  mam!' 

"  'Can  yoh  make  beds  an'  sweep  ?* 

"  'No,  mam !' 

"  'Can  yoh  wash  an'  iron  ?' 

"'No,  mam!' 

"'Can  yoh  sew?' 

"  'No,  mam !' 

""'Den  whut  did  yoh  do,  fur  Gawd's  sake,  on 
de  plantation?' 

"  'Oh,  I  jes'  kep'  de  flies  off  o'  ole  miss'!'  says 
Mandy. 

"De  madam  knowed  'er  people  an'  wuz  sorry 
fur  de  poh  gal:  so  she  tuk  'er  in  to  learn  'er. 
She  might  jes'  as  well  'a'  tried  et  wid  de  cat:  fur 
Mandy  wuz  out  an'  all  oveh  de  town.'* 


40  MAMMY  ROSIE 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Thornton. 

"I  mean,  she  got  to  behavin'  Hke  a  reg'lah  New 
Yohkeh.  Dat  disencouraged  de  madam.  She 
tole  de  gal  to  go  git  married,  fur  she  wa'  n't  fit  fur 
nothin'  else." 

''Did  she  discharge  her  ?" 

"Oh,  no.  ^liss  ]\Iilleh  wuz  a  kind  lady.  De 
idee  wuz  'nough  fur  J\landy :  fur  she  wuz  powe'- 
ful  cute  in  sech  mattehs.  She  soon  landed  a 
yalleh-niggeh  whut  wuz  a  sight  betteh  an'  her, 
bless  Gawd,  an'  discha'ged  huhself  to  hitch  up 
to  him.  Now  her  gal,  Peachy,  's  jes'  like  de  Ma ! 
I  would  n't  trust  'er  no  furder  'an  yoh  could 
sling  a  bull  by  de  tail !" 

"Do  3'ou  suppose  she  walked  off  with  any- 
thing?" 

"Huh!"  ejaculated  Rosie,  startled  into  an  up- 
right position.  "Oh,  Misteh  Tho'nton,  chile! 
Peachy  would  n't  take  nothin'  o'  ourn  whut  we 
did  n't  gib  'erT 

"Do  you  know  how  to  make  an  old-fashioned 
strawberry  short-cake?"  inquired  Thornton  ab- 
ruptly. 

"Well,  I  reckon  I  does  n't  know  how  to  make 


ROSIE  BECOMES  REMINISCENT    41 

no  uddeh  kind  o'  nothinV'  said  Rosie  with  an 
infinite  sense  of  relief. 

"How  do  you  do  it  ?" 

Rosie  looked  vexed.  She  cooked  only  by  intui- 
tion, not  by  rule. 

"Listen  to  this,"  said  Thornton,  taking  a  letter 
from  his  pocket,  and  remaining  quite  undisturbed 
by  the  cook's  angry  scowls. 

"Heah,  heah,  now!     Don't  jump  in  a  feveh! 
Wait  till  I  gits  time  to  tell  yoh !" 

"Let  me  tell  you  the  New  England  way,"  said 
Thornton,  who  proceeded  to  read  aloud. 

"Dat  ain't  de  way !"  exclaimed  Rosie  peevishly. 

"Yes,  it  is.    I  know  how  to  cook!" 

"O'  co'se  yoh  does!  Yoh 's  a  man;  an'  yoh 
can  do  eberything  but  tuhn  yohself  wrong  side 
out!  De  creatures!  Yoh  's  jes'  like  Misteh  Jin- 
kinses  second  wife.  She  wuz  a  ole  maid;  an' 
when  she  come  a-prancin'  in  wid  'er  new  laws, 
she  r'ared  mos'  out  o'  de  top  o'  de  house." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ROSIE   MEETS  OLD  FRIENDS. 


"Yes,  et  's  hen  my  grand  day,"  she  said  thought- 
fully,  ignoring  the  incident  of  the  strawberry 
short-cake.  '7  's  suhtainly  got  bawned  oveh  ag'in, 
an'  I  desehves  et:  fur  I  is  n't  neveh  missed  mass — 
when  de  weddeh  wuz  Une;  an'  I 's  tole  my  beads 
reg'lah;  an'  I  isn't  neveh  lied — fur  et  ain't  no 
lie  zvhen  et 's  wuss  to  tell  de  troof.  De  Lawd  is 
indeed  good  to  'is  desehvin'  chillun," 


43 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ROSIE   MEETS   OLD   FRIENDS. 

"Say,  Peachy,"  observed  Rosie  at  a  tea-confab 
which  delayed  Thursday's  dinner  half  an  hour, 
"did  yoh  know  I 's  goin'  to  school  ?" 

"You,  Miss  Rosie?" 

"Uh — huh !  Cookin'  school !  D'  yoh  see  dat  big" 
book  on  de  shelf?  Et  tells  yoh  how  to  do  ebery- 
thing  'ceptin'  gittin'  to  Hebben.  I 's  mos'  tuhned 
white  tryin'  to  undehstan'  de  young  masteh  read 
et,  an'  I  suhtainly  is  woh  out  one  paih  o'  shoes 
runnin'  to  Emmeline  Jones  afteh  mass  to  fine  out 
whut  'e  means.  He  knows  so  much,  I  tole  'im 
'e  could  cook  de  dinneh,  an'  I  'd  set  by  Miss 
Jinny's  side." 

"What  did  he  say  to  that?" 

"Mos'  cracked  'is  sides  a-laffin' !  Does  yoh 
think  I  'd  say  et  ef  'e  did  n't  ?  Uh — uh !  Guess 
not !  When  dey  gits  mad,  make  'em  laff :  yoh  can 
do  whut  yoh  likes  wid  'em  den.    Umph !" 

45 


46  MAMMY  ROSIE 

"Oh,  you  know  how  to  manage  the  men,  Miss 
Rosie." 

"  'Deed  I  does!  Gawd  bless  'em!" 

"I  wonder  you  never  married  again  ?  Did  n't 
you  want  to?'' 

"My  Lawd,  Peachy,  how  yoh  talks!  Co'se  I 
did.  Dey  neveh  wuz  n't  but  one  kind  ob  a  woman 
whut  did  n't  want  to  git  married  all  de  time." 

"What  kind  was  that?" 

"A  dead  woman,"  chuckled  Rosie.  "But  Land- 
street  wuz  sech  a  pill,  anuddeh  like  'im  'u'd  'a' 
killed  me,  shuh  !  So  I 's  done  gone  let  et  kill  some 
uddeh  fool  instid :  an'  heah  I  is  enjoyin'  life  an' 
dis  elegant  Chinee  tea !  Whua !  Whua !  Whua ! 
Whua!" 

"As  I  wuz  sayin'.  Peachy,  de  young  masteh 
would  n't  'a'  woh  out  'is  pants  settin'  in  de 
ketchen  readin'  wid  de  big  book  ef  little  Miss 
Jinny  wuz  n't  comin'  to-night.  He  did  n't  waste 
no  time  on  dem  ole  birds  whut  wuz  heah  Sun- 
day. Uh — uh  !  Guess  not !  We  's  gc«n'  to  have 
things  grand  to-night.  All  de  stuff  's  fixed  'ceptin' 
de  strawberry  sho't-cake.  I  '11  bake  dat  befoh 
dey  's  ready :  an'  don't  yoh  fohgit  to  whispeh  in 
Miss  Jinny's  eah  dat  Rosie  made  it  special  fur 


ROSIE  MEETS  OLD  FRIENDS       47 

her.  De  deah  chile !  I 's  goin'  down  wid 
de  coffee  in  my  bes'  bandaner,  to  see  'er  an'  Miss 
Annie.  Now  who  's  a-ringin'  de  bell  like  dat, 
fur  Gawd's  sake,  to  sp'ile  ouh  tea?  Come  back 
when  yoh  's  foun'  out,  Peachy." 

"It 's  Mrs.  Bancker,"  said  Peachy  returning  to 
the  kitchen.    ''She  's  gone  downstairs." 

'*Whut  made  'er  come  so  early,  fur  Gawd's 
sake  ?  She  suhtainly  mus'  be  hongry !  Well,  I 's 
goin'  to  finish  my  tea  befoh  I  does  nothin'  moh. 
Et  '11  gib  'em  time  to  git  'quainted." 

"It 's  eight  o'clock  already.  Miss  Rosie." 

"My  Lawd,  whut  ails  dat  bell  ?  Dem  folks  suh- 
tainly is  n't  got  nothin'  to  eat  at  home.  'T  ain't 
Miss  Annie,  I  know;  fur  she  always  wuz  late, 
'er  Pa  said.  Run  open  de  doh.  Peachy,  an'  keep 
'em  busy  till  I  mixes  de  soup." 

Rosie's  dinner  added  glory  to  the  best  South- 
ern traditions,  if  dessert  did  follow  a  half-hour's 
intermission.  Peachy  had  rapped  thrice  on  the 
dumb-waiter  and  had  been  forcibly  put  out  and 
locked  out  of  the  kitchen  before  Thornton  rose 
in  exasperation  and  started  in  quest  of  the  straw- 
berry short-cake. 

''Let  me  in  at  once !"  he  demanded,  vigorously 


48  MAMMY  ROSIE 

shaking  the  door  until  Rosie  ungraciously  com- 
plied. 

"Where  is  the  strawberry  short-cake?" 

"Et  's  done !"  pouted  Rosie,  displaying  a  sus- 
picious anxiety  to  conceal  the  range.  "Et  's  on  de 
dumb-waiteh  !     Et  '11  be  down  befoh  yoh  is !" 

"I  propose  to  wait  here  until  I  see  it  started 
down."  With  a  quick  movement  he  stepped  to 
one  side.  "Rosie  !  Howi  dare  you !"  he  cried,  level- 
ling his  finger  at  a  metal  hand-basin  pyramided 
high  with  luscious  strawberries  on  the  back  of 
the  range. 

"Well!  Et's  all  yoh  fault!"  she  responded 
feelingly.  "Et 's  all  yoh  fault !  Yoh  neveh 
would  n't  'a'  knowed  et  ef  yoh  'd  kep'  out !" 

"The  hand-basin!"  gasped  Thornton.  "The 
hand-basin !" 

"Now  look  y'heah,  chile!  Et's  hran'-newr 
said  Rosie,  telling  the  most  plausible  lie.  No- 
body ain't  neveh  had  deir  hands  in  et !  I  bought 
et  fum  Miss  Lynch  dis  mawnin'  an'  paid  'er  fif- 
teen cents  fur  et." 

"Of  course  you  did,  Rosie !"  cried  a  sweet 
young  voice,  as  Dick  Wynne's  familiar  laugh 
pealed  through  the  corridor. 


ROSIE  MEETS  OLD  FRIENDS        49 

"Et  's  Miss  Jinny !"  exclaimed  the  old  mammy, 
dropping  the  corners  of  her  out-spread  apron. 
''Et  's  Miss  Jinny!"  she  repeated  with  emotion  at 
the  sight  of  a  winsome  face  in  the  doorway. 
"Lawd  bless  de  sweet  chile!" 

"And  bless  you,  Rosie,"  said  the  young  woman, 
impulsively  placing  a  beautifully  rounded  arm 
about  the  old  slave's  neck,  "you  knew  my  dear 
mother." 

"Yes,  my  dahlin',  befoh  she  got  bawned." 

''Leave  us!"  Miss  Melrose  dismissed  the 
young  men  with  an  imperious  gesture.  "I  shall 
help  Rosie  with  the  short-cake,"  she  called  after 
them.    "Be  patient  as  long  as  I  choose  to  stay." 

"Oh,  Miss  Jinny,"  cried  Rosie  with  delight, 
"yoh's  jes'  like  Gin'ral  Warrin'ton,  yoh  grand- 
pa, when  'e  made  de  niggehs  walk  Spanish !  Dat 
suhtainly  was  a  sight !" 

"Here  is  Auntie,"  said  Miss  Melrose,  as  a 
stately  dame  appeared  beyond  the  threshold. 

"Miss  Annie!"  was  all  Rosie  could  murmur, 
when  Mrs.   Melrose  placed  one  arm  about  her 
neck    and    affectionately    stroked    the    wrinkled 
black  cheek.    "Miss  Annie  !    Miss  Annie !" 
********* 


50  MAMMY  ROSIE 

"I  'd  a  heap  ruddeh  be  j'ined  up  wid  my  own 
folks  heah  dan  in  Hebben  whur  all  de  men  an' 
women  dresses  de  same,"  remarked  Rosie  to 
Peachy  over  the  usual  good-night  draughts  of 
tea.  "  'T  ain't  no  sight  to  see  de  ladies  in  deir 
night-gowns,  but  I  guess  I  'd  bust  out  a-laffin', 
shuh,  to  see  de  great  Gin'ral  Warrin'ton  wid- 
out  'is  grand  apple-ettes  a-settin'  in  'is  night- 
shirt a-playin'  a  harp,  an'  ole  Uncle  Lije  a- 
standin'  behind  'im  in  is  short  one  jes'  like 
'e  did  at  de  table,  only  'e  had  'is  pants  on 
dere,  a-showin'  'is  fat  legs  whut  Aunt  Celie 
said  wuz  like  de  ones  on  de  big  pianner 
in  de  pahlah,  dey  wuz  so  crooked  an' 
full  o'  fat  places.  Whua!  Whua!  Whua! 
Whua !  De  Gin'ral  would  cuss,  shuh !  'Cause 
'e  'd  know  whut  a  call-down  et  'u'd  be  fur  'im 
widout  'is  unifo'm  an'  dem  grand  apple-ettes ! 

"Uh — uh,  Peachy ;  I  's  got  my  hands  full  heah 
wid  goin'  to  de  great  queen  down  de  street  to- 
morrow, an'  to  Miss  Annie  an'  Aliss  Jinny  on 
Saturday." 

"I  say,  Rosie,"  said  Dick  Wynne  looking  in  at 
the  door,  "you  must  keep  an  engagement  book. 


ROSIE  MEETS  OLD  FRIENDS        51 

You  can't  get  on  in  Society  without  it.  I  '11  send 
you  one." 

"Oh,  thank  yoh,  Misteh  Dick !  Yoh  's  jes'  like 
yoh  Ma!" 

"Good-night!"  cried  Dick. 

"Good-night,  dahlin'.  Say  yoh  prayers  good, 
ur  I  '11  tell  Miss  Lizzie,  yoh  Ma !" 

Peachy,  with  her  basket  of  delicacies  from  the 
feast,  had  barely  time  to  vanish  by  way  of  the 
back  elevator  before  Thornton,  who  followed 
closely  after  Dick,  stopped  to  praise  Rosie  for 
her  excellent  dinner. 

"Yes,  et  's  ben  my  grand  day !"  she  said 
thoughtfully,  ignoring  the  incident  of  the  straw- 
berry short-cake.  I 's  suhtainly  got  bawned 
oveh  ag'in,  an'  I  desehves  et :  fur  I  is  n't  neveh 
missed  mass — when  de  weddeh  wuz  fine ;  an' 
I 's  tole  my  beads  reg'lah ;  an  I  is  n't  neveh 
lied — fur  et  ain't  no  lie  when  et 's  wuss  to  tell  de 
troof.  De  Lawd  is  indeed  good  to  'is  desehvin' 
chillun !" 

"Reg !"  called  Dick  from  his  room.  "Did  you 
tell  Rosie  about  Peachy  ?" 

"Peachy!"      ejaculated      Rosie      indignantly. 


52  MAMMY  ROSIE 

*Teachy !  Whut  's  dat  lyin',  or'nary  niggeh  dis- 
graced us  wid  now,  fur  Gawd's  sake  ?" 

''When  she  helped  Mrs.  Bancker  off  with  her 
wrap,"  laughed  Thornton,  "and  saw  her  bare 
neck  and  arms,  she  said,  'Oh,  Madam,  are  n't  you 
afraid  you  '11  take  cold  ?  Can't  I  get  a  shawl  or 
something  to  throw  over  your  shoulders  ?'  " 

"No ;  Peachy  did  n't  say  dat,"  said  Rosie 
calmly.    'Teachy  did  n't  say  dat." 

''Yes,  she  did,"  said  Thornton,  nettled  by  the 
contradiction.  "Mrs.  Bancker  told  me  as  soon 
as  she  came  down  stairs,  and  was  greatly  amused 
by  it." 

"No !  Peachy  did  n't  say  dat,"  persisted  Rosie, 
shaking  her  head.  "Oh,  my  Gawd!"  she  cried, 
in  sudden  despair.  "Dat  happened  in  ouh  house  ? 
We  can't  hold  ouh  heads  up  now !  We  's  ruined ! 
We  's  disgraced !  ]\Ie  an'  yoh  can't  go  in  Sassi- 
ety  no  moh!  De  nobility  won't  come  to  us  no 
moh !  My  Gawd !  Whut  is  we  to  do  ?  Can't  we 
pubHsh  'er  in  de  papehs?  Sallie  did  dat  wid 
Jones  when  'e  got  so  lazy  an'  spendin'  'er  money 
on  uddeh  women.  We  is  n't  'sponsible  fur  dat 
crazy  niggeh  Peachy,  whut  is  n't  neveh  had  no 
learnin' !" 


ROSIE  MEETS  OLD  FRIENDS        53 

Rosie's  face  lightened  under  a  sudden  inspira- 
tion. ''Leastways,  I  isn't!"  she  added  deprecat- 
ingly.  ''I  didn't  want  'er.  You  cried  fur 
Peachy!" 

'Weh!"  she  ejaculated  with  a  sigh  of  relief, 
't  ain't  my  buryin'!  I 's  goin'  visitin'  to-mor- 
row. I  '11  weah  my  new  hat  wid  de  big  red  pop- 
pies, an'  my  Sunday  cawsets,  and  my  pink 
gahtehs.  Guess  I  will !  Humph  !  Yoh  don't  ketch 
Roxana  'ludin'  to  dat  low-lived,  ignurunt  niggeh. 
Peachy !  Humph  !  An'  I  's  goin'  to  be  wid  Miss 
Jinny,  Saturday !     Is  n't  yoh  jealous  ?" 

'What  nonsense,  Rosie!  Good-night!"  and 
laughing  immoderately,  Thornton  started  down 
the  corridor. 

"Don't  know  'bout  dat !"  observed  Rosie,  with 
a  sly  wink  for  her  own  delectation  as  she  turned 
out  the  lights.  ''Yoh  lady-bird  's  done  ben  in  de 
nest ;  an'  ef  yoh  is  deaf  an'  blind  Roxana  ain't ! 
Uh— uh !  She  '11  take  care  ob  yoh  !  Aliss  Jinny's 
a-prayin'  fur  yoh  dis  minute,  deah  chile,  an'  'er 
heart's  a-singin',  'Good-night!     Good-night!'" 


CHAPTER  V. 

ROSIE  SITS  FOR  A  PORTRAIT. 


'Well,"  mused  Rosie  over  her  bed-time  cup  of 
tea,  "et  would  indeed  s' prise  de  culhid  popelation 
to  see  me  settin  in  a  gold  frame  wid  all  my  beau- 
tiful clo'es  on  me  jes'  like  de  white  royalties.  Et 
suhtainly  would.  Yes,  et  suhtainly  would.  Et 
woidd  be  a  grand  slap  at  dat  stuck-up  black  trash 
whiit  done  p'inted  deir  Ungehs  afteh  me,  when  I 
wuz  savin'  fur  de  ondertaker-man,  a-sayin' : 
'Poll  ole  niggeh !  De  Lawd  's  done  f  oh  got  'er,  an' 
de  Debbil  don't  want  'er' " 


55 


CHAPTER  V. 

ROSIE  SITS  FOR  A  PORTRAIT. 

The  story  of  Rosie's  new-found  friends  quickly 
permeated  the  various  social  strata  of  the  coloured 
districts. 

Whereupon  it  transpired,  each  afternoon,  that 
squads  of  black  ladies,  young  and  old,  were  landed 
by  the  creaking  back  elevator  at  her  kitchen  door  ; 
and  as  they  flushed  their  thirsty  throats  with 
"elegant  Chinee  tea,"  Rosie  descanted,  in  a  sten- 
torian baritone,  upon  her  re-entry  into  "Sassiety." 
Then,  with  a  free-handed  philanthropy  befitting 
her  new  affluence,  she  would  take  from  an  upper 
shelf  a  pile  of  assorted  paper  bags  which  she  had 
collected  for  the  purpose,  and  bestow  upon  each 
dusky  friend  a  portion  of  sugar,  dried  fruit,  tea 
or  coffee. 

Thrifty  Miss  Driscoll,  the  little  flower-painter 
who  lived  on  the  studio-floor  above  the  apart- 

57 


58  MAMMY  ROSIE 

ment,  was  daily  witness  of  Rosie's  prodigality. 
Not  only  could  she  hear,  but  see  the  old  mammy 
and  her  human  parasites.  Late  one  afternoon, 
she  espied  the  turbaned  head  at  the  kitchen-win- 
dow and  called  '*Good-evening." 

''Huh !"  ejaculated  the  old  darkey,  with  a 
startled  look  over  her  shoulder. 

''Look  up !''  called  Miss  Driscoll. 

Rosie  fumbled  for  her  spectacles  and  adjusted 
them  for  sky-gazing. 

"Law  me,  ]\Iiss,  whut  a  pretty  picture  yoh 
makes !" 

"So  do  you." 

"Me  ?  An'  ole  niggeh  like  I  pretty  !  Whua ! 
Whua  !  Whua  !  Whua  !  Guess  yoh  's  thinkin' 
'bout  yohself.  Miss." 

"No ;  in  your  bandana,  in  that  window-frame, 
you  would  make  a  beautiful  picture.  I  should 
like  to  paint  you." 

"Oh,  no,  ]\Iiss,"  said  Rosie,  with  unmistakable 
disapproval,  "I  is  n't  neveh  fooled  wid  nothin' 
whut  de  Lawd  's  done  did  fur  me.  De  white 
ladies  does  dat :  an'  Gawd  knows  'isself  'e  's 
done  made  me  black  'nough,  too !  I  is  n't  neveh 
put  on  no  paint." 


ROSIE  SITS  FOR  A  PORTRAIT      59 

"You  don't  understand  me/'  explained  Miss 
Driscoll.     'T  want  to  paint  your  picture." 

'Tike  de  white  royalties?" 

"Of  course !" 

Rosie  sat  down  hard  in  her  rocker,  over- 
weighted with  a  sense  of  her  own  importance. 
"My  Lawd!  My  Lawd!"  she  gasped,  blinking 
excitedly  up  at  the  studio  window. 

"Come  up!"  said  Miss  Driscoll.  ''We'll  talk 
it  over  now." 

"Yes,  Miss;  thank  yoh.  I  '11  jes'  go  take  my 
bandaner  off  an'  fix  my  hair." 

"No,  no!"  cried  the  little  artist.  "Come  just 
as  you  are.  I  '11  meet  you  at  the  head  of  the 
steps." 

Upon  entering  the  studio,  Rosie  exclaimed  in 
delighted  amazement :  "Et  looks  fur  all  de  wo'ld 
like  a  shootin'-gall'ry !" 

Miss  Driscoll's  wan  cheek  flushed  and  she 
tightened  her  lips  in  painful  embarrassment. 
"I  am  not  a  regular  portrait-painter.  These  are 
some  of  my  friends.  Which  one  would  you  like 
to  shoot  at  ?" 

"Oh,  none  ob  'em.  Miss !  Dey  's  jes'  grand !" 
cried  Rosie,  upon  whom  the  significance  of  the 


6o  MAMMY  ROSIE 

dialogue  was  utterly  lost.  "Which  one  ob  'em  is 
yoh  goin'  to  make  me  like?  Dat  one  wid  de  big 
featheh  hat  an'  de  flowehs  all  oveh  de  dress? 
I 's  got  a  lovely  big  hat,  too,  wid  red  roses  all 
oveh  et,  whut  IViiss  Jinny  Alelrose  gib  me  afoh 
she  went  to  Newpoht,  an'  a  grand  satin  dress 
wid  Johnny-jump-ups  all  oveh  et,  whut  de  great 
queen  down  de  street  in  de  big  brown  palace 
gib  me  when  I  wuz  to  et  myself  to  call  on  'er 
afoh  she  went  to  Paris.  I  '11  jes'  run  down  an' 
slip  'em  on  an'  be  back  afoh  yoh  can  tuhn 
'round." 

"Do  that  to-morrow,"  called  Miss  Driscoll, 
running  after  her,  "I  can  see  beautiful  hats  and 
gowns  in  the  street  any  day ;  but  I  never  before 
met  a  really  lovable  southern  coloured  lady  like 
yourself." 

"Oh,  Miss,"  murmured  Rosie,  modestly,  "yoh 
talks  jes'  like  a  Southe'neh  yohself." 

"I  don't  wonder  that  Mr.  Thornton  is  so  tond 
of  you,"  continued  ^liss  Driscoll. 

At  mention  of  her  employer,  Rosie's  genial  ex- 
pression changed  instantly  to  one  of  suspicion ; 
but  the  flattery  in  an  invitation  to  be  painted  was 
irresistible,  and  she  soon  found  herself  posed  on 


ROSIE  SITS  FOR  A  PORTRAIT      6i 

a  movable  platform  at  one  end  of  the  room,  with 
the  artist  flitting  about  her  for  the  best  points 
of  view. 

Once  she  caught  Rosie  by  the  chin  to  change 
the  position  of  her  head. 

"Whua!  Whua!  Whua!  Whua!"  roared  the 
old  mammy,  bending  double  over  her  knees. 
''Guess  et  tickles  like,  a-settin'  here  tryin'  to  make 
my  ole  black  self  look  pretty." 

"That 's  right,"  said  Miss  Driscoll,  arranging 
another  pose.    "Just  look  natural." 

"Guess  a  niggeh  can't  look  no  uddeh  way," 
screamed  Rosie  again.  "Whua !  Whua  !  Whua ! 
Whua !" 

Miss  Driscoll's  laughter  soared  bird-like  above 
the  full-toned  African  guffaw.  "Why  Rosie," 
she  gasped  at  last,  "we  '11  have  a  portrait  for  the 
fall  exhibition  that  will  make  us  both  famous." 

"Well,  ef  yoh  can't  do  nothin'  else  wid  et,  dey  '11 
take  me  to  fire  at — at  de  shootin'-gall'ry,  shuh! 
Whua!  Whua!   Whua!   Whua!" 

As  Miss  Driscoll  was  not  so  confident  of  her 
own  artistic  powers  that  she  could  fully  appreci- 
ate the  suggestion,  she  proceeded  diplomatically, 
and  not  without  difficulty,  to  exact  a  promise 


62  MAMMY  ROSIE 

from  Rosie  to  appear  in  a  kitchen  dress  and  her 
bandana,  the  following  morning,  for  her  first 
sitting. 

With  an  envious  sigh,  the  aged  darkey  gave 
one  last,  long  look  at  the  lady  in  the  Gainsbor- 
ough hat  and  brocaded  gown  on  the  easel,  and 
shuffled  heavily  back  to  her  kitchen,  muttering: 
*'A  bandaner !  A  cotton  handaner!  She  is  n't 
got  no  taste !  I 's  paid  de  ondertaker-man,  I 
guess !  I  is  n't  got  to  weah  my  ole  bumbazine 
bunnet  no  moh,  neetheh.    Guess  not !" 

Disappointed  at  losing  an  opportunity  to  dis- 
play her  gorgeous  raiment,  Rosie  pondered  long 
over  the  lack  of  taste  in  dress  evidenced  by  ]\Iiss 
Driscoll,  and  nursed  her  wounded  pride  until  she 
had  distorted  the  whole  incident  of  their  acquaint- 
ance into  a  ruse  of  the  artist  to  meet  Thornton 
and  finally  marry  him. 

''De  poh  dahlin' !  De  honey  deah !"  she  groaned. 
"Et  's  only  de  grace  ob  Gawd  whut  keeps  'ini 
fum  realizin'  de  dangeh  heah  in  de  hot  weatheh 
fum  de  ole  maids — de  ole  maid  hens!  Dey  jes' 
buhns  up  wid  lub  fur  yoh — when  yoh  does  n't 
want  'em  't  all.  Oh,  my  Gawd !  I 's  got  to  have 
a  swoller  o'  tea  fur  thinkin'  ob  'em."     Rosie 


ROSIE  SITS  FOR  A  PORTRAIT       63 

reached  for  the  ever-ready  teapot  on  the  back  of 
the  range,  and  filled  a  cup  with  the  coppery  fluid ; 
and  as  she  cooled  the  steaming  beverage  with  her 
breath,  she  continued  her  bitter  soliloquy : 

''Deir  lub  biles  up  an'  wrinkles  deir  leatheh 
faces  till  dey  looks  like  dried  apples  a-hangin'  on 
de  tree  all  winteh — so  dey  does — de  scarecrows ! 
Dey  's  done  hea'd  o'  Miss  Jinny  Melrose,  an'  et  's 
jealousy — de  cats !  Dat  painteh-woman  knows 
she  's  in  Newpoht,  fur  de  Melroses  is  sech  big 
bugs  dey  can't  change  deir  shimmies  widout  all 
de  papehs  vvhut  dey  is  a  publishin'  et  afoh  dey 
can  git  'em  washed  an'  ironed  ag'in.  Dat 's  a 
fact ;  an'  I  is  n't  goin'  up  to  'er  ole  shootin'- 
gall'ry  no  moh !  No,  sir-ee ;  I  is  n't !  'Deed 
I  is  n't !  She  's  a  turrer — a  turrer !  De  idee 
o'  dat  dried-up,  frizzled-up,  disgustin'  ole  hag 
a-speakin'  to  me  out  o'  de  winder  so  free- 
like!  Ef  she  wants  to  paint  a  niggeh,  she 
can  git  dat  grinnin'  mule  on  de  front  elevateh 
to  set  on  'er  box.  He  won't  interduce  dat  nasty 
bird  to  de  honey  chile!  Uh — uh!  Guess  not! 
No,  Miss  Cat ;  Roxana  's  done  wid  yoh  !  Good- 
evenin' !" 


64  MAMMY  ROSIE 

She  rose  and  dropped  the  window  with  a 
slam. 

Little  Miss  Driscoll,  dreaming  of  great  achieve- 
ments in  the  fading  light,  started  nervously  at 
the  noise.  "Yes,  it  is  the  best  idea,"  she  said, 
turning  again  to  regard  the  platform  where  the 
quaint  black  mammy  had  capered  and  posed  in 
her  artistic  visions,  ''if  she  will  only  consent 
to  it." 

"Well,"  mused  Rosie  over  her  bed-time  cup  of 
tea,  "et  would  indeed  s'prise  de  cullud  popelation 
to  see  me  settin'  in  a  gold  frame  wid  all  my  beau- 
tiful clo'es  on  me  jes'  Hke  de  white  royalties.  Et 
suhtainly  would!  Yes,  et  suhtainly  w^ould!  Et 
would  be  a  grand  slap  at  dat  stuck-up  black  trash 
whut  done  p'inted  deir  fingehs  afteh  me  when  I 
wuz  savin'  fur  de  ondertaker-man,  a-sayin' : 
Toh  ole  niggeh!  De  Lawd's  done  fohgot  'er, 
an'  de  Debbil  don't  want  'er !' 

"Yes,  suh!  Daf  would  be  my  jubilee!  An'  ef 
de  painteh-woman  '11  paint  me  dat  way  an'  gib 
't  to  me,  she  can  paint  me  her  way — an'  keep  et! 
Yes,  suh ;  she  can  keep  et  an'  set  on  et,  fur  all  I 
cares ;  fur  I 's  a-goin'  to  have  my  jubilee — ^m)^ 


ROSIE  SITS  FOR  A  PORTRAIT       65 

jubilee!     An'   den  the   cuUud  trash   in   Seventh 
Avenue  can  go  to  de  Debbil !" 

Next  morning,  attired  in  an  umbrella-hat  of 
red  cabbage-roses  and  a  trailing  gown  of  rich 
yellow  satin  brocaded  in  colours,  Rosie  swept 
proudly  into  the  modest  studio. 

"Huh!"  began  the  old  darkey  with  faint 
screams  of  ecstasy  as  she  presented  all  sides  for 
admiration.  "Huh !  I  's  jes'  grand,  is  n't  I  ? 
Huh !  Now,  please  Gawd,  I 's  got  somepin'  to 
dress  myself  wid  when  I  goes  in  Sassietyl 
Huh?" 

"Is  it  not  a  trifle  short  in  front?"  ventured 
Miss  Driscoll,  in  a  spasmodic  effort  to  control 
her  levity. 

"Not  when  I  set!"  rejoined  Rosie,  clambering 
stiffly  on  to  the  platform  and  planting  herself  on 
the  chair  with  knees  wide  apart.  "Can  yoh  see 
my  stockin's  now?" 

"A  little  bit." 

"Now?"  inquired  Rosie,  bringing  her  knees 
together  and  tightening  the  gown  over  her  stom- 
ach and  lap. 

"Only  your  slippers." 

Rosie  gave  a  startled  look  at  her  ragged  foot- 


66  MAMMY  ROSIE 

gear  from  which  a  big  bronzed  toe  protruded. 
"Humph !"  she  said.  ''Looks  fur  all  de  wo'ld  like  a 
tarrapin's  head,  don't  it  ?  Whua  !  Whua !  Whua ! 
Whua!  Clean  fohgot  to  put  on  my  shoes  dis 
mawnin'.  Yoh  does  n't  need  to  paint  'em  nohow. 
Dat  lady  in  de  feathehs  oveh  dere  on  dem  sticks 
is  n't  got  none  on.  Leastways  yoh  can't  see  'em. 
Does  I  look  as — good — as  her?" 

**You  are  simply  splendid !"  replied  Miss  Dris- 
coll.  "But  do  you  know,  you  are  ever  so  much 
more  picturesque  in  your  bandana." 

Rosie's  face  looked  suddenly  older ;  "Yas  'm,  I 
suppose  I  is :  only  I  does  n't  know  whut  dat 
wohd  means.  Tell  yoh  whut  I  '11  do.  Miss,"  said 
the  impulsive  old  creature,  at  once  announcing 
her  plan  for  the  two  portraits.  "Xow^,  dat 's 
satisfyin'  to  me  ef  et  is  to  yoh.    Huh  ?" 

Miss  Driscoll,  though  fully  alive  to  the  advan- 
tages of  a  free  model,  hesitated  in  order  to  com- 
pute the  cost  of  an  extra  canvas. 

''I  's  got  my  reason,"  continued  Rosie,  "an* 
I  'spect  yoh  's  got  yohs.    Huh?" 

"I  '11  do  it,"  replied  the  artist,  "providing  you 
will  pose  the  way  I  want  you  for  the  picture  I  am 


ROSIE  SITS  FOR  A  PORTRAIT       67 

to  keep.  Do  you  remember  coniing  into  your 
kitchen  about  two  o'clock  a  few  nights  ago?" 

"I  does  dat  ebery  night  to  wash  de  dinneh 
dishes." 

'The  dinner  dishes?  At  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning  ?" 

*'Co'se !  I  goes  to  bed  jes'  as  soon  as  I  reds  up 
de  dinin'-room." 

''Does  n't  the  food  on  the  dirty  dishes  draw 
the  cockroaches?" 

"Ugh !  Dey  'd  come  anyway.  My  !  Guess  I 
an'  de  cockroaches  is  had  lots  o'  fights!  I  jes' 
slooshes  'em !  I  slooshes  'em  wid  b'ilin'  wateh ! 
We  's  got  tin  boxes  fur  ebery  thing." 

'T  should  think  you  \vould  need  them,"  ob- 
served Miss  Driscoll.  "Well — the  other  night  it 
was  too  hot  to  sleep,  and  I  was  taking  what 
fresh  air  there  was  at  the  window.  You  came 
into  your  kitchen  carrying  a  candle ;  and  as  you 
walked  near  to  the  window,  you  shaded  your 
eyes  to  look  at  the  sky.  I  should  like  to  paint 
you  with  the  candle  light  on  your  face  just  as 
you  looked  at  that  moment." 

"Whut?    Widout  any  clo'es?" 

"You  wore  your  bandana,  and  had  on  a  little 


68  MAMMY  ROSIE 

red  flannel  underwaist  and  a  short  blue  flannel 
skirt." 

"An'  all  my  bare  legs  a-showin',  too  ?" 

''Why,  Rosie,  you  don't  know  what  a  picture 
you  made." 

"Me!"  said  the  old  mammy,  rising  in  wrath 
to  her  full  stature.  ''Me  strippin'  stark-mother- 
naked  as  a  bird  to  be  painted !  Miss !  I 's  ben 
respectable  eveh  sence  de  day  when  I  got  bawned. 
I  is  n't  neveh  ea'ned  my  bread  in  no  dissipated 
way  sence  dat  day :  an'  I 's  had  plenty  o' 
chances,  too  !    Oh  !      /  's  had  plenty  o'  chances!" 

Gathering  her  precious  silken  skirts  about  her 
knees,  Rosie  laboriously  descended  the  platform. 

"I  did  n't  see  more  of  your  legs  the  other  night 
than  I  see  at  this  m.inute,"  observed  Miss  Dris- 
coll,  unmoved  by  Rosie's  rancour. 

"Huh?"  ejaculated  the  darkey,  still  tightly 
holding  up  her  robes  and  extending  one  leg. 
"Well,  dat  ain't  much,"  she  drawled  in  a  mollified 
voice  as  she  raised  her  eyes  to  the  feather- 
crow^ned  lady  en  the  easel.  "De  wind  h'ists  'em 
higher  dan  dat  in  de  streets  when  et  's  blowin' ; 
an'  nobody  don't  faint,  neetheh." 


ROSIE  SITS  FOR  A  PORTRAIT      69 

"And  as  for  your  neck  and  shoulders,  Rosie, 
any  woman  might  be  proud  of  them." 

"Well — I  guess  dat  's  so !"  said  Rosie,  releasing 
her  skirts.  "Dey  is  n't  no  niggehs  comin'  to  dis 
shoot — dis  gall'ry  nohow,  an'  ef  I  wuz  painted 
stark-mother-naked  as  a  bird,  dey  would  n't  know 
et !  Well,  I  does  n't  care  ef  yoh  does  n't.  I  wants 
myself  painted  in  dese  clo'es  fust,  fur  my  jubilee/' 

"Your  jubilee?" 

"Well— I  is  n't  said  nothin'  'bout  et  yit ;  but 
I 's  goin'  to  have  one  wid  my  new  picture — an' 
a  gold  frame,  too ;  fur  I  does  n't  have  to  give  de 
ondertaker-man  no  moh  fur  my  buryin'.  I  *s 
jes'  as  good  as  dead  an'  buried  now,  Miss,  in  a 
decent  respectable  way — jes'  as  I 's  lived — wid  a 
cross  oveh  me.  Tell  yoh  whut  't  is,  't  ain't  many 
niggehs  can  say  dat.  De  night-doctehs  gits  de 
mos'  ob  'em  when  day  dies.  De  buzzahds! 
Ugh!" 

Miss  DriscoU  stopped  Rosie's  mournful  reflec- 
tions by  posing  her  on  the  platform  with  in- 
structions to  talk  as  much  as  she  liked  in  order  to 
preserve  her  natural  expression. 

"Now,  fur  Gawd's  sake,  why  does  n't  de  men 
whut  makes  dem  little  pictures  ob  yoh  on  tin, 


70  MAMMY  ROSIE 

whut  looks  like  de  sides  o'  musta'd  boxes,  tell  yoh 
dat.  Why  one  day  when  Sallie  stood  all  ob  'er 
husbands  up  in  a  row,  I  tole  'er  dey  looked  so 
solemn — like  she  'd  done  died  fust  an'  left  'em 
widout  no  suppoht." 

Just  as  Rosie  terminated  a  lengthy  exposition 
of  Sallie's  matrimonial  methods,  a  terrifying 
clap  of  thunder  precipitated  a  panic  in  the  studio. 

Miss  Driscoll  screamed,  and  the  only  material 
part  of  Rosie  visible  was  a  big  black  hand  de- 
scribing fantastic  crosses  before  a  collapsed  heap 
of  cabbage-roses  and  yellow  brocaded  satin. 

"Whur  is  et  now  ?"  came  an  agonised  whimper 
from  under  the  gaudy  pyramid.  "Whur  is  et 
now?" 

"The  sky  is  blue !"  said  ]\Iiss  Driscoll,  glancing 
in  wonderment  up  at  the  roof -light.  *'It  must  be 
off  there,"  she  continued,  starting  for  the  win- 
dow. ''Oh !  It 's  away  in  Jersey — miles  from 
here.  It 's  as  black  as  night  on  the  other  side  of 
the  river." 

''Humph!  Might  'a'  knowed  et!"  exclaimed 
Rosie,  complacently  resuming  her  pose.  "Dey 
has  de  turriblest,  rippin'est  sto'ms  whut  dey  is 
out  dere.     Guess  I  know.     Wuz  in  one  ob  'em 


ROSIE  SITS  FOR  A  PORTRAIT       71 

oncet.  T  wuz  when  Sallie  married — Humph ! 
Now  whut  wuz  dat  debbil's  name?  Well!  'T 
wuz  a  man,  anyway.  He  come  afteh  Jones  whut 
wuz  de  wust  ob  'em  all." 

"Yoh  see,  when  de  wah  wuz,  me  an'  Sallie 
lived  in  Washin'ton.  Sallie  wuz  a  widder  den ; 
fur — men  'ad  run  kind  o'  low-like.  Dey  wuz  all 
in  de  army.  Well !  One  day  we  went  out  to  de  ole 
home  whur  we  got  bawned  in  Maryland.  Yoh 
see,  when  de  young  masteh  whut  owned  us  died, 
he  left  us  ouh  freedom:  so  me  an'  Sallie  wuz 
free  niggehs.  Well,  suh,  will  yoh  b'lieve  et,  de 
blackest  niggeh  de  Debbil  eveh  made  conjured 
Sallie  out  dere.  An'  dat  wuz — Jones !  Yes,  suh, 
dat  wuz  de  fust  time  she  seen  'im.  Well — Sallie 
went  clean  crazy  'bout  'im.  Dey  wuz  n't  no  doin' 
nothin'  wid  'er.  She  had  a  stockin'  full  o'  money, 
an'  said  she  wuz  goin'  to  buy  'im :  fur,  yoh  see, 
folks  'lowed  de  South  'u'd  lose  in  de  wah,  an'  de 
price  o'  niggehs  'ad  done  went  'zmy  down.  So 
Sallie  went  wid  'er  ha'd-ea'ned  money  nex' 
mawnin',  an'  bought  Jones  fum  'is  masteh  fur  a 
hund'ed-an'-fifty  dollahs.  Yes,  Miss,  she  paid 
a  hund'ed-an'-fifty  dollahs  fur  dat  wuthless,  low- 
lived, or'nary  leavin's  o'  black  trash!     Den  she 


72  MA^IMY  ROSIE 

walked  to  town  huhself  an'  bought  a  pair  o'  mar- 
riage licenses,  an'  dat  very  night  dey  wuz  hitched 
up.  Huh !  An'  Miss,  Sallie  ain't  neveh  done  re- 
pentin'  et,  an'  she  's  always  a-sayin'  to  me,  'Ef  I 
only  had  dat  money  back  whut  I  paid  fur  dat 
black  African  niggeh !'  Yoh  see,  he  was  a  moon- 
chile  !" 

"A  what?" 

"A  moon-chile.  Dey  's  de  viledest  whut  dey  is. 
Dey  's  so  bad  de  ole  Debbil  goes  an'  hides  'is 
head  ebery  time  de  moon  changes  an'  dey 's 
doin'  all  deir  cussedness,  'cause  'e  's  so  'shamed 
'e  made  'em.  \\^hen  de  moon  shines  bright  dey  's 
like  little  kittens ;  but,  in  de  dahk  o'  de  moon ! 
Umph !" 

"De  home  folks  done  tole  Sallie  'e  wuz  a  moon- 
chile  :  but  'e  conjured  'er,  an'  den  she  done  act 
wuss  'an  any  moon-chile  huhself  tell  she  got  'im. 
An'  den  !  'My  Gawd  !  ]\Iy  Gawd !  Dey  wuz  n't 
no  keepin'  'im  out  o'  jail  in  de  city,  an'  she  jes' 
had  to  go  No'th  wid  'im  when  de  wah  wuz  n't 
no  moh. 

"She  foun'  a  little  house  down  in  Jersey  wid  a 
gahden  a-backin'  down  into  a  little  crick,  whut 


ROSIE  SITS  FOR  A  PORTRAIT       73 

wuz  n't  biggeh  'an  no  ditch ;  an'  whut  run  frew 
de  graveyahd  jes'  afoh  et  got  to  de  gahden. 

"Dey  wuz  a  niggeh  passon  whut  hved  de 
uddeh  side  o'  de  crick ;  an'  oncet  in  de  dahk  o'  de 
moon,  he  got  sorry  fur  SaUie  an'  tuk  Jones  off 
to  de  meetin'-house,  whur  dey  wuz  all  crazy  wid 
a  revival,  a-tryin'  to  learn  'im  r'ligion.  An'  will 
yoh  b'lieve  et,  dat  debbil  Jones  went  home  wid 
one  o'  de  sistern  whut  done  got  r'ligion  an'  shout 
huhself  hoa'se  dat  night.  De  boys  whut  done  seen 
'm  go  out  wid  'er  knowed  'e  'd  be  goin'  home 
befoh  mawnin'  an'  thought  dey  'd  cure  'im ;  so 
dey  wraps  up  in  sheets  an'  table-cloths,  an'  sets 
on  de  stone  wall  o'  de  graveyahd  a-waitin'  fur  'im. 
Jes'  as  dey  wuz  a  little,  teenty-weenty  bit  o'  light 
'way  down  low  whur  de  sun  comes  up,  dey  hea'd 
Jones  a-comin'  down  street :  so  dey  jumps  up  an' 
begins  to  run  roun'  on  deir  tiptoes  like  dey  wuz 
flyin'.  Some  wuz  on  de  wall,  an'  some  in  de 
graveyahd ;  an'  some  ob  'em  run  all  roun'  'im 
jes'  like  dead  folks. 

''Well,  Miss,  ef  dat  'ad  ben  de  light  o'  de  moon 
Jones  'u'd  done  ben  skeered  to  death ;  but  et  wa'n't, 
et  wuz  his  time  an'  dahk.  So  'e  jes'  walks  'long, 
a-stoppin'  to  look  at  'em  impident-like,  oncct  in  a 


74  MAMMY  ROSIE 

while,  tell  'e  gits  to  de  end  o'  de  wall.  By  dat 
time  de  white  creatures  wuz  all  'roun'  'im.  So 
Jones  takes  off  'is  hat  an'  says — 'Good-ma v.  nin', 
I  hopes  yoh  's  well  ?  I — does  n't  want  to  be  pryin' 
an'  onpolite-like,  but — does  yoh  mind  tellin'  me — 
air  yoh  jes'  out  fur  a  walk,  ur  is  dis  de  Day  o' 
Gin'ral  Ris'riction  ?' 

"Well,  Miss,  dat  very  day  Jones  got  up  an' 
died.  He  wuz  foolin'  wid  a  gun,  an'  de  grace  o' 
Gawd  tuhned  et  'roun'  an'  blowed  a  hole  clean 
frew  'im. 

'*My !  Wuz  n't  dey  rejoicin' !  Sallie  baked 
'nough  fur  a  weddin' ;  an'  one  o'  de  men  whut 
wuz  settin'  up  wid  Jones,  popped  de  question  to 
'er  dat  very  night,  fur  'e  knowed  she  felt  like 
havin'  a  festibel  a-gittin'  rid  o'  dat  wicked  black 
debbil. 

"Sallie  married  'im  fouh  weeks  lateh  to  de  day, 
an'  I  come  up  fum  Washin'ton  fur  de  weddin'. 
Uh !  Wuz  n't  dat  a  time !  Uh  !  Yoh  neveh  done 
hea'd  sech  a  shivz'eree  in  all  yoh  life.  Et  wuz 
jes'  like  'lecshun  night.  Dey  brung  ho'ns  like 
mockin'-birds,  an'  ho'ns  like  jackasses,  an'  ebery 
uddeh  kind  o'  ho'n  whut  comes  between ;  an' 
dey  pounded  on  wash-b'ilers  an'  pans  an'  kittles ; 


ROSIE  SITS  FOR  A  PORTRAIT     75 

an'  dey  tolled  big  bells  an'  shuk  little  ones — an' 
rattles,  too.  Whew!  De  noise  wuz  somepin' 
tumble.  An'  den,  widout  nobody  'spectin'  et,  de 
sto'm  bust  oveh  'em  in  tubs  an'  bucketfuls — jes' 
like  de  wrath  o'  Gawd  wuz  givin'  'em  de  debbil 
fur  so  much  cussedness. 

"Et  pohed  an'  et  pohed  all  de  night ;  an'  den  de 
folks  said  a  cloud  bust  somewhur  up  de  crick,  an' 
de  wateh  come  down  like  a  house  a-sweepin'  de 
whole  valley  befoh  et ;  an'  when  de  stone  culbert 
in  de  graveyahd  would  n't  hold  no  moh,  de  flood 
went  frew  de  made  ground,  whut  wuz  low,  jes' 
like  a  sponge,  an'  riz  up  all  de  folks  whut  wuz 
buried  dere  an'  sent  'em  sailin'  off  to  de  ribber  jes' 
like  et  wuz  sorry  fur  'em  layin'  dere  so  long  wid- 
out nothin'  to  do. 

"Well,  some  folkses  habits  is  powe'ful  holdin' 
— when  yoh  's  dead,  too ;  fur,  who  should  be 
settin'  up  ag'in  a  apple  tree  in  de  gahden  nex' 
mawnin' — jes'  like  'e  'd  come  home  drunk  de 
night  befoh  to  'tend  de  weddin'  an'  wuz  sleepin' 
et  off — but  Jones.  Yes,  Miss,  et 's  Gawd's  own 
troof,  et  wuz  Jones  ;  an'  'is  coffin  wa'  n't  nowhur. 
Well !  By  de  time  Sallie  'd  done  buyed  'im 
anuddeh,  she  swoh  she  'd  leave  de  mos'  costivest 


76  MAMMY  ROSIE 

niggeh  whut  neveh  wuz  befoh  to  fight  et  out  wid 
de  State  o'  Jersey.  So  de  new  husband  he 
dug  a  hole  Hke  a  well  fur  Jones,  an'  den  him 
an'  Sallie  skipped  widout  Icavin'  no  address.  An' 
bless  Gawd,  she  ain't  ben  in  Washin'ton  sence, 
'cause  she  's  got  to  cross  Jersey  to  git  dere,  an' 
she  ain't  willin'  to  take  no  moh  chances  wid 
Jones  a-bobbin'  up.  Dat  's  why  I  's  come  heah  to 
live :  'cause  her  an'  Hallud  is  all  de  fambly  I  's 
got  left. 

"Whew!"  ejaculated  Rosie,  who  had  ended 
her  narrative  with  anxious  glances  at  the  lower- 
ing sky  beyond  the  roof,  just  as  the  artist  had 
laid  down  her  palette  and  brush.  "When  I 
drapped  dat  piece  o'  ole  sof  peach  on  de  floh  dis 
mawnin'  at  breakfus',  I  said  et  would  rain,  shuh ! 
An  de  sky  wuz  all  blue,  too.  I  '11  jes'  slip  down 
an'  shet  dem  shetters,  fur  et  blows  v/id  awful 
rips  frew  ouh  place." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ROSIE  ATTEMPTS  A  PARABLE. 


''Thank  you,  Hallud.  Et  's  mighty  kind  o'  yoh 
tellin'  me  'bout  dent  parables;  dey  's  nice  to 
know  anyway;  fur  conve'sation  runs  powe'fid 
low  sometimes  an'  dey  'd  Ht  in  grand  when  yoh  's 
done  tole  all  yoh  antidotes," 


77 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ROSIE  ATTEMPTS  A  PARABLE. 

One  Friday  morning  in  August,  the  completed 
portrait  of  Rosie  a  la  Gainsborough  was  repos- 
ing, unframed,  on  an  easel  where  Rosie,  standing 
in  scant  attire  on  the  platform,  could  admire  and 
worship  her  splendid  pictured  self. 

''Yoh  's  grand,  Roxana,  yoh  suhtainly  is ; 
yoh  's  grand,"  she  mused,  as  Miss  Driscoll 
worked,  red-faced,  over  the  final  touches  on  the 
second  of  the  two  pictures  before  the  open  studio 
door.  ''An'  when  yoh  gits  yoh  gold  frame  roun' 
yoh —  By  de  way.  Miss,"  she  inquired,  "when  's 
de  man  comin'  wid  et?  His  money  's  jes'  jumpin' 
like  a  shettle  in  my  pocket." 

A  shadow  fell  athwart  the  threshold.  Then 
Thornton  stood  there. 

Almost   swooning  with   modesty   and   appre- 

79 


Bo  MAMMY  ROSIE 

hension,  Rosie  staggered  toward  a  screen,  and 
drew  her  gown  on  wrong  side  before.  ''1  's 
heah,  honey ;  I  's  comin'/'  she  cried,  tugging 
frantically  at  her  waist  as  she  heard  him  an- 
nounce his  name  and  inquire  for  her  errant  self. 
"Jes'  run  ahead,  I  '11  be  down  befoh  yoh  is.  Now 
go  'long,  chile.  Go  'long.  Whut  yoh  doin'  dere, 
anyway?    Huh?" 

Peeping  round  an  end  of  the  screen,  she  dis- 
covered Thornton  absorbed  in  contemplation  of 
her  latest  portrait,  and  ]\Iiss  Driscoll  regarding 
him  with  dilating  eyes.  '']\Iy  Gawd  !"  she  gasped 
in  terror.  ''She's  conjurin'  'im!  She's  conjurin' 
'im!  Heah,  dahlin',  heah!  Come  wid  me,"  she 
implored,  bolting  out  half-dressed  and  pulling 
furtively  at  his  coat  sleeve.  Roxana  '11  go  wid 
yoh.  Come  'long,  chile ;  come  'long.  Whut 's 
de  matteh  ?   Huh  ?   Does  n't  yoh  want  me  ?" 

''Have  you  put  a  price  on  this  picture?"  calmly 
inquired  Thornton  of  the  artist,  ignoring  Rosie's 
strange  behaviour. 

^'No,"  replied  Miss  Driscoll,  evidently  much 
flattered.  "Rosie  gave  me  the  sittings  for  my 
own  pleasure." 

"She'll  give  you  as  many  more  as  you  like. 


ROSIE  ATTEMPTS  A  PARABLE      8i 

Would  you  accept  a  hundred  dollars  for  this  can- 
vas ?" 

"Gladly,  if  Rosie  is  willing." 

"I  is!  I  is!  Ef  yoh  '11  only  come  wid  me,  chile. 
Come  on!"  said  Rosie,  still  grasping  his  coat. 
'Yoh  train  '11  go  widout  yoh.  Et  's  stahtin'  now ! 
Et  's  done  gone !" 

"Poh  Miss  Jinny !"  groaned  Rosie  despairingly 
and  half  to  herself. 

Thornton  turned  sharply. 

"It 's  the  first  time  I  Ve  ever  known  you  to  be 
in  a  hurry.  It 's  worth  missing  a  train  just  to 
see  you."' 

"Oh,  he 's  conjured !"  murmured  the  old 
mammy,  almost  weeping.  "He's  conjured! 
She  's  done  put  a  spell  on  'im  already." 

"If  it 's  worth  another  hundred  to  paint  me,  I 
can  give  you  some  sittings  when  I  return  from 
Newport,"  said  Thornton,  turning  his  back  on 
the  irritating  old  mammy. 

"In  a  petticoat,  too?  Huh?"  interrupted  Rosie, 
with  all  her  usual  asperity.  "My  Lawd,  is  dat 
smoke  comin'  out  o'  ouh  flat  ?  Fire !  Fire !  Fire !" 

Rosie   fled,   followed   by   Thornton,   who   ran 


82  MAMMY  ROSIE 

through  the  flat  and  back  to  the  kitchen  by  the 
time  she  arrived  there  cahii  and  unperturbed. 

''What  are  you  up  to?"  he  inquired,  with  a 
penetrating  look,  suspecting  some  roguery  though 
not  divining  all. 

''I  guess  somebody  *s  buhned  deir  coffee  an' 
et  's  done  come  up  frew  de  co'ht.'' 

''You  '11  burn,  if  you  tell  whoppers  like  that," 
declared  Thornton,  turning  away  to  pack  his 
portmanteau. 

"AVell,  ef  I  does,"  she  retorted,  "I  '11  be  shuh 
ob  a  place  to  keep  dese  ole  bones  o'  mine  wahm 
in  winteh." 

Rosie  hovered  over  Thornton,  fearful  that  the 
spell  put  on  him  by  the  maiden  lady  in  the  studio 
would  cause  him  to  defer  his  departure ;  and  he, 
amused  by  the  absurd  situation  created  by  the 
old  darkey,  hearkened  leniently  to  her  loud 
lamentations  that  she  had  no  "Sally-Lunn"  to 
send  to  "Miss  Jinny"  and  that  he  had  been  very 
remiss  in  not  telling  her  earlier  of  his  intended 
visit  to  Newport. 

"I  couldn't,"  replied  Thornton,  "]\Ir.  ]\Ielrose 
wired  me  only  this  morning  to  come  up  for  a 
few  days." 


ROSIE  ATTEMPTS  A  PARABLE      Ss 

"I  guess  dey  wants  him  bad,"  observed  Rosie, 
with  a  sigh  of  rehef,  watching  Thornton's  ca4j 
drive  toward  the  station.     "Dey  suhtainly  wants 
'im  bad!   Well,  dey  shall  have  'im.     Dey  shall T 
Ever  since  "Miss  Jinny's"  departure,  Rosie  had 
undergone  a  period  of  matrimonial  apathy  dur- 
ing which  she  had  had  ample  opportunity  to  esti- 
mate her  own  power  and  independence  in  ruling 
over  a  bachelor's  household.     Though  confident 
of  a  home  for  life  in  any  event,  her  ultimatum 
had  been   for   leaving   well   enough   alone   until 
ancient  maidens  and  im.petuous  widows  became 
"too  pestiferous."     Now  she  considered  the  time 
had  come  for  prompt  action,  and  so  she  packed 
a  basket  with  delicacies  and  hurried  up  to  Sixty- 
second    Street    to    advise    v/ith    Hallud,    whose 
superior  knowledge  was  attested  to  on  a  parch- 
ment conspicuously  exhibited  in  a  gaudy  frame 
above  Sallie's  sewing-machine. 

After  an  elaborated  and  dramatic  enactment  of 
the  scene  in  the  studio,  Rosie  added:  "Now, 
mind  yoh,  Hallud,  et  's  only  her  whut  needs  cor- 
rectin'.  We  's  got  to  make  'er  take  'er  spell  off 
ouh  young  m.an,  fur  'e  does  n't  know  et 's  on  'mi. 
Folks  does  n't  know  when  dey  's  conjured.   'Deed 


84  MAMMY  ROSIE 

dey  doesn't!  Dey  jes'  does  eberything  whut  yoh 
wants  'em  to  do  widout  yoh  axin'  et ! 

"Why  dat  poh  chile  done  tuhned  'is  pockets 
wrong  side  out;  an'  'e  'd  'a'  gib  'er  de  clo'es 
off  'is  back  ef  I  wuz  n't  ben  dere  to  stop  'im.  Yoh 
does  n't  know  how  crazy  dey  gits :  an'  dey  stays 
dat  way  tell  somepin'  takes  de  spell  off  ob  'em. 
Now  when  de  young  masteh  comes  back  et  '11  be 
de  same,  only  wuss,  'cause  et 's  hot  weatheh  an' 
dey  is  n't  nothin'  else  to  do. 

''Say,  Hallud,  is  n't  yoh  learned  somepin'  in 
dem  books  up  to  de  Norman  College  'bout 
stoppin'  dem  ole  maids  fum  conjurin'?" 

"No,  cousin,"  replied  the  girl,  shaking  her 
head,  "but  I  have  in  the  Bible.  Tell  her  a 
parable." 

''A  parable?    Whut 's  dat?" 

"A  parable  is  a — well,  it  is  n't  the  truth ;  but 
it 's  an  aii'ful  story  you  make  up  to  tell  people  to 
scare  them  into  doing  right." 

"Wouldn't  dat  be  a  He?" 

"Yes,  if  it  were  n't  in  the  Bible." 

"Co'se!  Co'se!"  exclaimed  Rosie,  blinking  her 
eyes  to  emphasise  her  comprehension  and  ap- 
proval of  the  idea. 


ROSIE  ATTEMPTS  A  PARABLE      8 


'Thank  you,  Hallud.  Et  's  mighty  kind  o'  yoh 
tellin'  me  'bout  dem  parables  ;  dey  's  nice  to  know 
anyway,  fur  conve'sation  runs  powe'ful  low  some- 
times, an'  dey  'd  fit  in  grand  when  yoh  's  done 
tole  all  yoh  antidotes.  I  '11  sleep  wid  et  to-night, 
an'  I  guess  I  '11  scraggle  out  a  parable  in  de 
mawnin'  whut  '11  s'prise  'er,  an'  not  huht  'er 
feelin's  neetheh,  fur  she  's  a  likely  gal  when  dey 
is  n't  no  men  'roun'." 

Rosie  sat  disconsolate  the  following  morning, 
depressed  by  a  sleepless  night,  and  silent  with 
chagrin  at  her  inability  to  construct  the  needful 
parable.  Her  ever-ready  invention,  the  basis  of 
her  most  potent  charm,  had  failed  her  for  the 
first  time.  She  was  fearful  of  having  fallen  a 
victim  to  Miss  Driscoll's  sorcery  until  cheered 
by  the  reflection  that  all  of  her  best  moments 
had  sprung  from  inspiration,  and  that  the  good 
Lord  would  certainly  support  his  deserving  child 
at  the  right  moment  if  she  would  only  pluck  up 
courage  and  boldly  confront  the  artist  in  her 
studio. 

Outside  there  was  a  scraping  sound,  a  click, 
and  the  elevator-door  swung  open. 

"Hallud!    My  Gawd!"  screamed  Rosie  scram- 


86  MAMMY  ROSIE 

bling  to  her  feet.  "De  good  Lawd  done  sent 
yoh!" 

"Poor  cousin!"  said  Hallud,  embracing  her 
tenderly.     "It 's  been  so  hard  on  you  all  alone." 

"Yes,  I  wuz  lonely,  Hallud." 

"It  must  have  been  a  terrible  shock." 

"Et  wuz !"  said  Rosie  in  a  whisper.  "But  how 
did  yoh  know  'bout  et?" 

"It  was  in  the  morning  paper." 

"De  mawnin'  papeh?"  exclaimed  Rosie  in 
open-eyed  amazement.  "Why,  how  did  dey 
know  'bout  et?" 

"Because  the  people  here  sent  for  an  ambu- 
lance to  take  her  to  the  hospital." 

"Sent  fur  an  ambelanche  an'  tuk  'er  to  de 
hospital !"  said  Rosie,  a  look  of  terror  growing 
in  her  face. 

"Who?"  she  whispered,  pointing  with  awe- 
some glance  at  the  studio  window.     "Her?" 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Hallud,  "the  janitor's  wife. 
Did  n't  you  hear  it  ?" 

"Heah  whut,  fur  Gawd's  sake?" 

"Why,  cousin,  Mrs.  Williams  fell  from  that 
unoccupied  apartment  over  there  last  night,  nine 
stories,  down  the  elevator-shaft. 


ROSIE  ATTEMPTS  A  PARABLE      87 

When  Rosie  recovered  her  speech,  she  began  to 
connect  her  reminiscences  of  the  night  with  the 
appalHng  catastrophe  in  the  adjoining  apartment. 

''I  wuz  layin'  in  dere  in  de  dahk  wid  my  eyes 
wide  open  a-tryin'  to  make  up  dat  parable,  when 
somepin'  whut  wuz  n't  nothin' — leastways  not  o' 
dis  yarth — caught  hole  o'  de  sheet  hard,  jes'  like 
dat,  an'  pulled  ebery  godly  stitch  off  o'  me  onto 
de  floh." 

"1  did  n't  say  nothin' ;  I  did  n't  do  nothin' ;  I 
jes'  got  straight  up, — so, — an'  I  walks  out  de 
doh  an'  down  de  hall  widout  lookin'  behine  me, 
or  to  de  right  or  to  de  left,  to  de  young  masteh's 
room." 

''I  went  in  an'  shet  de  doh  an'  locked  'er  tight 
an'  got  into  'is  bed — 'cause  'e  wuz  n't  in  et." 

"Well,  I  wuz  layin'  dere  a-lookin'  out  de 
winder  when  somepin'  come  'long  de  po'ch  whut 
runs  'long  back  o'  de  house ;  an'  et  stud  dere  a- 
lookin'  down  into  de  co'ht.  Et  wuz  her,  Hii.llud !" 
whispered  Rosie.     ''Et  wuz  her  come  back'" 

''I  coughed  loud-like,  an'  et  slipped  'way  wid- 
out no  noise ;  so,  I  gits  up  and  shets  de  winder 
£'.n'  locks  et,  an'  pulls  de  cuhtains  down;  an'  I 
did  n't  see  ur  heah  nothin'  moh  all  de  night ;  but,  I 


88  MAMMY  ROSIE 

did  n't  sleep,  Hallud,  an'  I  could  n't  think  no  moh 
'bout  dat  parable.  Yoh  see  et  wuz  de  Lawd's 
will,  an'  et  wuz  His  hand  whut  done  pull  de 
sheet  off  me  an'  led  me  to  de  young  masteh's 
room,  so  I  could  n't  heah  dat  turrible  cry  in  de 
elevateh-well. 

*'Et  's  a  bad-luck  house,  Hallud ;  a  bad-luck 
house.  Misteh  Pritchard  tole  me  so  when  'e  wuz 
heah  las'  Sunday:  an'  he  knows  'cause  'e  wuz 
bawn  wid  a  caul.  Dem  folks  knows  shuli  'bout 
eberything  'ceptin'  havin'  luck  fur  deirselves. 

''He  wuz  settin'  w4iur  yoh  is  now,  an'  'e  'd  tuhn 
'is  head  an'  kind  o'  listen-like  widout  sayin' 
nothin',  an'  yoh  could  n't  'a'  hea'd  a  pin  fall,  too. 
Gawd  knows  whut  de  sperits  wuz  a-sayin'  to  'im : 
but  'e  suhtainly  hea'd  dat  awful  cry  an'  felt  de 
spell  o'  dat  conjurin'  creature.  An'  dey  's  moh 
undeh  dis  roof  somewhur!" 

The  old  negress  drew  her  lips  tightly  together 
and  rolled  the  whites  of  her  eyes  portentously. 
"A  bad-luck  house!  A  bad-luck  house!"  she 
sobbed. 

"Come,  now.  Cousin;  come  home  with  me," 
exclaimed  Hallud  bravely ;  "your  nerves  are  shat- 


ROSIE  ATTEMPTS  A  PARABLE      89 

tcred.  You  '11  be  all  right  after  a  night  at  our 
house." 

Always  ready  to  adopt  any  idea  whatsoever 
that  justified  her  philosophy,  Rosie  locked  up  the 
apartment  and  departed  joyfully,  she  and  Hallud 
bearing  between  them  a  heavily  laden  basket  of 
choice  edibles. 

Sunday  morning,  after  early  ]\Iass,  Rosie  has- 
tened home  to  empty  the  pan  of  drip-water  under 
the  ice-chest.  Then  she  cut  a  large  piece  of  cold 
red-ripe  watermelon  and  ascended  with  this 
peace-ofifering  to  the  studio. 

*'Et  '11  cool  yoh  ofif.  Miss,"  she  explained,  "fur 
et  's  dangerous  hot  in  de  street." 

''Really,"  added  Miss  Driscoll,  after  profuse 
thanks,  'T  feel  almost  as  if  I  were  robbing  Mr. 
Thornton!" 

"Oh,  no,  Miss ;  he  's  always  tcllin'  me  to  take 
things  to  ouh  frens  when  dey  can't  come  to  us. 

''Now  dat  's  a  pretty  good  staht,"  reflected 
Rosie,  elated  by  this  first  flash  of  her  imagination  ; 
'T  reckon  dat  parable  won't  need  no  coaxin'  now." 

"Rosie,"  exclaimed  Miss  Driscoll  impulsively, 
and  with  tears  shining  in  her  eyes,  "you  don't 


9©  MAMMY  ROSIE 

know  it,  but  you  are  a  perfect  dear.  You  are  my 
good  angel." 

The  emotional  old  soul  felt  herself  succumbing 
to  the  insidious  allurement  in  this  merited 
acknowledgment  of  her  virtues,  and  staggered 
toward  a  chair  with  barely  reason  enough  left  to 
lock  the  middle  and  index  fingers  of  each  hand 
to  protect  herself  from  the  conjurer's  spell. 

"I  am  going  to  tell  you  a  secret,"  continued 
Miss  Driscoll,  a  new  tenderness  in  her  voice.  "1 
am  engaged  to  a  young  artist ;  we  are  too  poor  to 
marry ;  but  w^e  will,  if  I  make  a  success  of  the 
new  portrait.  It  will  establish  my  reputation,  for 
Mr.  Thornton  is  so  well  known  everywhere." 

"Is  'e?"  said  Rosie,  more  from  curiosity  than 
through  lack  of  conviction. 

**Of  course.  He  's  the  great  cotillion  leader  in 
all  the  smart  houses  here  and  at  Newport." 

"My  young  masteh?  Aly  Lawd !"  exclaimed 
Rosie,  forgetfully  unclasping  her  fingers  in  her 
genuine  surprise.  "I  did  n't  know  dat.  Why  we  's 
great  big  bugs,  is  n't  we  ?    Huh  ?" 

"None  bigger !" 

"He  '11  set  in  de  Presi-denfs  chair  vit,  j\Iiss ! 


ROSIE  ATTEMPTS  A  PARABLE      91 

Shuh !  An'  den  yah  can  paint  all  de  C2ihi-nct,  an' 
de  jedges  wid  dc  big  wigs.  Uli — huh!" 
*'That  will  be  some  time  off,  Rosie." 
''Co'sc !  Co'se !  Yoh  does  n't  want  to  wait 
fur  dat.  Co'se  not !  Tell  yoh  whut  I  '11  do,  Miss," 
she  added  in  a  gush  of  sympathy,  'T  '11  speak  to 
Misteh  Dick,  an'  to  Miss  Jinny,  an'  Miss  Annie, 
an'  de  queen  huhself  down  de  street  whut  gib 
me  dat  lovely  satin  dress ;  an'  I  knows  dey  '11  all 
want  to  be  painted  when  dey  sees  me  in  my  gold 
frame.  Shuh  !  Shuh !"  added  Rosie  with  loving 
glances  at  the  image  of  herself  on  the  easel. 
''Ain't  et  neveh  comin'?" 

"To-morrow,  if  I  have  to  go  for  it." 
A  heavy  step  without  and  a  sharp  ring  of  the 
bell  drew  Miss  Driscoll  to  the  door. 

Left  alone  in  meditation,  Rosie  chanced  to 
notice  her  outspread  fingers,  and  an  awful  thought 
abruptly  stifled  the  tide  of  compassion  welling 
higher  and  higher  in  her  great  heart :  "Is  I  ben 
conjured?  I  wonder  ef  I  is  conjured?  I  won- 
der?" 

"No,"  she  mused  with  some  comfort,  "I  is  n't ; 
fur  folks  does  n't  know  et  when  dey  is ;  an'  I 
knows  et.    Leastways,  don't  matteh  now,  fur  she 


92  MAMMY  ROSIE 

ein't  tryin'  to  marry  de  honey  chile  nohow.  Well, 
I  guess  all  dat  fuss  's  ben  some  good :  fur  I  's 
learned  'bout  dem  parables  what  I  did  n't  know 
befoh,  an'  dey  comes  in  mighty  handy  in 
Sassiety." 

''Yes,"  she  overheard  Aliss  Driscoll  saying, 
''that  is  ]\Irs.  Roxana  Landstreet." 

''Will  you  sign  this?"  said  a  special  delivery 
postman  coming  forward. 

"Suhtainly,"  she  said,  graciously  accepting  his 
pen.  ''Well — I  is  n't  got  my  good  specs  on," 
stammered  Rosie,  unwilling  to  admit  her  inability 
to  read  or  write.  "I  '11  jes'  ask  de  ^liss  to  do  et 
fur  me." 

The  postman  had  gone  and  Rosie  stood  irreso- 
lutely handling  her  letter,  not  knowing  wli^t  to 
do  w^ith  it. 

"Oh,  Rosie !  Rosie !"  cried  ]\Iiss  Driscoll  glee- 
fully.   "Just  listen." 

"My  Dear  Miss  Driscoll : 

I  departed  in  such  haste  yesterday  that  I  had 
no  time  to  liquidate  my  indebtedness  to  you. 
Therefore,  I  enclose  my  cheque  for  one  hundred 
dollars," — "And  here  it  is!"  exclaimed  the  artist, 
waving  a  bit  of  paper — "with  the  request  that  you 


ROSIE  ATTEMPTS  A  PARABLE      93 

will  kindly  keep  the  canvas  for  me  until  my  re- 
turn. 

I  have  written  Rosie  to  come  to  Newport  at 
once.    Any  advice  you  may  be  able  to  give  her 
about  the  journey  will  be  greatly  appreciated  by 
Yours  very  sincerely, 

Reginald  Thornton.'" 

"Newpoht?"  gasped  Rosie,  offering  her  letter 
for  perusal.  ''Newpoht  ?  Me  ?  Is  I  goin'  to  New- 
poht  ?    Whut  does  et  say.  Miss  ?" 

The  envelope  was  a  thick  one,  containing  a 
twenty-dollar  bill  and  three  separate  missives. 
Miss  DriscoU  selected  one  and  began : 

"Dear  Rosie : 

We  have  just  received  the  Herald  telling  of 
the  terrible  tragedy  in  our  house.  I  fear  it  has 
been  a  great  shock  to  you,  so  near  our  own  doors, 
and  I  am  unhappy  at  the  thought  of  your  being 
there  alone  at  such  a  time.  Therefore,  I  wish 
you  to  accept  Miss  Melrose's  invitation  to  come 
to  Newport  for  a  few  days,  as  I  have  decided  to 
remain  here  until  next  week. 

Give  away  anything  perishable  and  stop  the 
ice:  and  when  you  lock  the  apartment,  give  the 
key  to  the  janitor.  I  have  written  him  all  further 
directions. 

I  have  also  written  to  my  office,  telling  them 


94  MAMMY  ROSIE 

to  buy  your  railway  and  Pullman  ticket  and  send 
one  of  the  boys  with  a  cab  to  take  you  to  the  sta- 
tion and  put  you  on  the  one  o'clock  train  on 
Monday.  He  will  call  for  you,  with  full  instruc- 
tions, at  twelve  o'clock.  So  have  your  bag  ready 
— you  can  use  one  of  mine — and  don't  keep  him 
w^aiting.  I  enclose  a  bill  for  any  necessary  ex- 
penses. 

Give  the  enclosed  note  to  the  Pullman  car 
conductor,  who  will  tell  you  where  to  change  cars 
and  how  to  find  the  Wickford  boat  for  Newport. 
Miss  Alelrose  will  send  someone  to  meet  you 
upon  your  arrival.  Now  don't  be  depressed  ;  but 
cheer  up  and  you  will  have  a  lovely  time  here. 
Faithfully  yours, 

Reginald  ThorN'TOn. 

P.  S.  Bring  only  quiet,  unostentatiouF  things 
to  wear  here.  A  black  dress  and  another  for  a 
change  will  do,  with  your  black  hat  which  you 
usually  wear.  R.  T." 

"Now  here  is  one,"  continued  Miss  DriscoU, 

" — from " 

"Miss  Jinny !" 

"Dear  Rosie : 

We  are  all  so  sorry  to  have  you  in  New  York 
all  by  yourself,  at  such  a  sad  time,  and  Aunt 
Annie  and  I  want  you  to  come  right  over  and  stop 


ROSIE  ATTEMPTS  A  PARABLE      95 

with  us  until  Mr.  Thornton  is  obhged  to  return 
home. 

Don't  bother  about  your  clothes  ;  we  can  find 
plenty  for  you  here. 

We  shall  expect  you  Monday. 
Aunt  Annie  joins  me  in  love. 

Affectionately  yours, 

Virginia  Melrose."" 

"Lawd  lub  'er  sweet  soul !  Dey  wuz  n't  neveh 
nobody  like  dem  Warrin'tons  whut  's  now  Mel- 
roses.  Why,  when  I  tells  'em  'bout  de  ole  times 
when  Miss  Annie  wuz  a  gal,  her  an'  Miss  Jinny 
laffs  tell  deir  cawsets  mos'  go.  Whua!  Whua! 
Whua !  Whua  !  Oh,  dey  's  de  real  royalties,  Miss. 
Dey  lubs  me  too  much !  My  Lawd !  Won't  I 
make  fun  fur  'em  ut  Newpoht !  Whua !  Whua ! 
Whua!  Whua!" 

The  evil  spirits  still  hovering  about  the  sad- 
dened homes  flew  rapidly  away  as  Rosie's  infec- 
tious laugh  penetrated  the  inner  court  of  the  "bad- 
luck  house." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

ROSIE  AT  NEWPORT. 


"De  hedges  heah  is  mos'  beautiful/'  said  Rosie, 
thinking  to  Und  a  more  congenial  topic. 

"They  would  he  if  so  many  rotten  people  did  n't 
live  behind  'em." 

"Oh  et  's  always  hahd  to  git  decent  help.  De 
mos'  ob  'em  is  sech  dirty  blackguards.  Be  care- 
ful, sonny;  don't  upset  me." 

"Don't  fret.  You  'II  go  to  'Eaven  straight 
henough." 

"Well,  I  hopes  so;  fur  I  should  n't  like  to  go 
to  Hell  an'  have  to  meet  all  de  Newpoht  rascals 
oveh  ag'in." 


97 


CHAPTER  VII. 

ROSIE    AT    NEWPORT. 

All  the  smart  world  and  a  representation  of 
less  luminous  bodies  were  out  on  wheels.  Belle- 
vue  Avenue  was  at  its  best.  The  joy  of  living, 
like  the  bead  on  champagne,  bubbled  up  in  the 
soft  sun-caressed  air  beyond  verdant  tree-tops 
and  splendid  villas  and  went  soaring  out  over 
waters  of  sapphire  blue,  where  palatial  pleasure 
craft  cut  foaming  ways  to  the  confines  of  vision. 

So  Newport  appeared  as  Rosie  strolled  leisurely 
along  under  a  white  silk  sunshade  once  the  prop- 
erty of  ''Miss  Jinny,"  and  gazed  admiringly  at 
the  display  of  fashion  in  the  open  carriages. 

Angry  cries  down  a  leafy  side  street,  drew  her 
attention  to  the  occupants  of  a  trim  Victoria  which 
stood  at  the  garden  entrance  to  a  beautiful  estate. 

''You fool,  can't  you  understand?'* 

shouted  a  familiar  voice. 

99 


loo  MAMMY  ROSIE 

Rosie  joined  the  line  of  nurse  maids  and  nurs- 
ery governesses  who  were  precipitately  dragging 
their  impressionable  charges  toward  the  scene 
of  strife,  where  a  semi-circle  was  speedily  formed 
about  the  contestants. 

"1  think  I  might,  ]\Iadam,  if  you  did  n't  be- 
wilder me  by  swearing  at  me  each  time,"  shouted 
a  stalwart  high-voiced  footman  in  livery  as  he 
sprang  angrily  from  the  box.  *'I  return  you  the 
emblems  of  my  slavery."  Peeling  off  his  coat 
he  hurled  it  to  the  pavement.  "I  have  worn  them 
long  enough."  His  boots  and  cockaded  hat  came 
next. 

''1  wish  you  good-day,  Madam !" 

With  a  mocking  flourish  of  his  doe-skin 
breeches,  he  deposited  them  on  the  heap  and 
strode  majestically  up  the  garden  walk  in  his 
underclothes. 

''Are  n't  you  ashamed  of  yourselves,  you 
snickering  idiots.  Take  your  children  away,"  and 
the  lady  of  the  profane  tongue  stepped-  from  the 
Victoria  as  the  mob  scattered  suddenly.  Only 
Rosie  remained,  rooted  to  the  spot  in  utter  amaze- 
ment. 

"De  queen!"   she  gasped.     Then  seeing   she 


ROSIE  AT  NEWPORT  loi 

was  noticed,  she  lowered  her  sunshade  and  strode 
forward.    ''Let  me  help  you,  Madam." 

''Rosie !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Hampton- Yorke,  evi- 
dently mollified  by  the  sight  of  the  faithful  old 
darkey.    ''How  do  you  happen  to  be  here  ?" 

"Me  an'  de  young  masteh  is  visitin'  Miss  Annie 
an'  Miss  Jinny." 

Mrs.  Hampton- Yorke  ordered  the  horses  put 
up  and,  gratefully  acknowledging  Rosie's  offer  to 
carry  the  discarded  livery,  walked  with  her  across 
the  lawn  to  the  mansion. 

"They  blame  Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke  for  swear- 
ing," continued  the  great  lady,  her  mind  still 
angrily  running  after  her  rebellious  footman ; 
"how  can  she  help  it  with  such  imbeciles  about 
her." 

"  'Deed,  Madam,  dat  wuz  de  only  way  ole 
marse  got  any  wohk  done  't  all ;  an'  de  slaves 
loved  'im,  too." 

"I  fear  it  does  n't  affect  the  Irish  that  way." 

"  'Deed  et  does  n't,  Madam !  Nothin'  but  whis- 
ky does,  fur  dey  's  de  mos'  aggravatin'  debbils 
whut  is." 

Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke  laughed  aloud,  and  after 


I02  MAMMY  ROSIE 

stopping  to  give  some  orders  to  the  butler,  in- 
vited Rosie  to  her  boudoir. 

"You  are  a  perfect  godsend,"  she  declared, 
sinking  into  an  easy  chair.  ''I  reached  home  only 
two  days  ago,  and  things  have  gone  wrong  ever 
since.  I  must  not  talk  about  it.  Tell  me  the 
gossip." 

**  'Deed,  J^Iadam,  I  's  'fraid  I  does  n't  know 
much ;  fur  I  does  n't  'sociate  wid  de  suhvants. 
I  does  n't  want  all  dem  low-lived  furrin  white 
men  a  makin'  love  to  me.  I  had  'nough  o'  dat  in 
Paris  wid  Miss  Mary.  Dey  's  turrers,  dey  is, 
Madam,  turrers  !  So  I  sets  mos'  de  time  wid  Miss 
Annie  on  de  tur-rass,  an'  wid  ]\liss  Jinny  too, 
when  her  an'  de  young  masteh  is  n't  a-walkin' 
down  by  de  wateh  wid  deir  heads  togeddeh." 

'Is  that  a  match,  Rosie  ?" 

''No,  Madam,  I  does  n't  think  so  yit;  but  ebery 
time  one  o'  dem  great  waves  comes  a-roarin'  an' 
a-splashin'  up  ag'inst  dem  rocks,  et  kind  o' 
helps  things  on.  I  does  n't  know  why  't  is,  but 
de  sight  o'  wateh  puts  queer  notions  into  folkses 
heads  in  de  summeh-time.  'Deed  et  does !  Hap- 
pened to  me  oncet:  an'  dat  wuz  how  I  come  to 
git  married,  ef  de  good  Lawd  '11  eveh  fohgive  me 


ROSIE  AT  NEWPORT  103 

fnr  bein'  sech  a  fool.    I  guess  I  won't  say  nothin' 
moh  'bout  dat,  Madam,  I  tries  to  fohgit  et. 

"Oh,  thank  yoh,  Miss.  Thank  yoh!"  said 
Rosie,  graciously  accepting  a  cup  of  tea  after  the 
French  maid  had  served  Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke. 
Fortified  by  her  staple  beverage,  she  continued, 
though  interrupted  at  frequent  intervals  by  the 
hearty  laughter  of  her  hostess. 

'T  wuz  a-sewin'  oncet  down  on  de  James 
Ribber.  Dey  wuz  a  powe'ful  'mount  o'  co'htin* 
goin'  on  dat  summeh :  fur  de  niggeh  qua'tehs 
wuz— a— 'long  de  ribber  whur  de  moon  wuz 
shiny-like  on  de  wateh  an'  come  streamin'  frew 
de  cabin  dohs. 

''Well!  Dey  wuz  a  young  feller,  Lije,  an'  'e 
wuz  a-keepin'  company  wid  Tilly  Brown  an' 
Lindy  Parks  to  de  same  time,  an'  all  de  white 
folks  knowed  et.  So  one  mawnin',  Lije  went  up 
to  de  big  house,  'cause  'e  knowed  de  masteh  whut 
'e  wohked  fur  wuz  goin'  to  town :  an'  'e  give  'im 
a  dollah  an'  fifty  cents  to  git  a  pair  o'  marriage 
licenses  fur  him  an'  Lindy  Parks. 

''De  masteh  wuz  'way  all  day,  an'  when  'e 
come  drivin'  home  't  wuz  mos'  dahk :  but  dere 
set  Lije  at  de  big  gate  waitin'  fur  'im  kind  o' 


I04  MAMMY  ROSIE 

anxious-like.  So  de  masteh  pulled  a  big  white 
papeh  out  o'  'is  pocket  an'  said :  'Here  't  is  Lije. 
Now  run  'long  an'  marry  Tilly.' 

"  Toh  Gawd,  Marse;  said  Lije,  '  't  ain't  Tilly! 
Et  's  Lindy  whut  I  's  goin'  to  marr\-.' 

"  'Lindy  ?'  said  de  masteh.  'Why,  I  thought 
Tilly  wuz  yoh  keep-company.' 

"  'Dat  's  so,  ]\Iarse,  she  's  one  ob  'em :  but  I  's 
goin'  to  marry  Lindy.' 

"  'Well,'  said  de  masteh,  'I  thought  et  wuz 
Tilly  an'  had  de  papeh  made  out  fur  'er.' 

"  'Ef  yoh  does  n't  mind,  ]\Iarse,'  said  Lije,  'jes' 
have  'em  changed  fur  Lindy  de  nex'  time  yoh  's  in 
town.' 

"  'Dat  '11  cost  yoh  'nuddeh  dollah  an'  fifty  cents,' 
said  de  masteh. 

"Lije  scratched  'is  foot  ag'in  'is  uddeh  leg  a 
minute  to  think;  an'  den  'e  said:  'Well,  ]\Iarse, 
I  does  n't  b'lieve  dey  's  a  niggeh  livin'  on  de  face 
o'  Gawd's  yarth  to-day  whut 's  wuth  anuddeh  dol- 
lah an'  fifty  cents:  so  I  '11  jes'  keep  dis  pair  o' 
marriage  licenses  an'  marry  Tilly.' 

"An'  Madam,  will  yoh  b'lieve  et?  He  did! 
Well — when  dey  got  tired  o'  each  uddeh,  dey  tuk 
up  wid  r'ligion.    All  de  same,  Lije  got  mad  when 


ROSIE  AT  NEWPORT  105 

Tilly  made  too  free  wid  de  passon :  an'  Tilly  slep' 
a  'hole  week  'lone  wid  de  dried  onions  in  de  gar- 
ret when  she  caught  Lije  a-huggin'  Lindy  one 
evenin'  behine  de  meetin'-house. 

"Yoh  see,  de  passon  done  marry  hisself  to 
Lindy.  Now  dey  unt-  folks  whut  knowed  'e  had 
anuddeh  wife  an'  fambly  all  growed  up  oveh  in 
Albemarle  County :  but  dey  'd  done  sent  'im  dere 
'lone  to  preach  de  gospel,  an',  o'  co'se,  'e  did  n't 
want  to  bring  no  bad  example  befoh  de  congrega- 
tion, so  'e  jes'  jumps  in  an'  marries  Lindy  widout 
sayin'  nothin'  'bout  de  uddeh  fambly. 

"Now,  Lije  did  n't  want  to  have  no  ha'd  feel- 
in's  wid  de  passon,  o'  co'se,  on  'count  o'  Lindy. 
Yoh  see,  dey  'd  done  made  'im  oveh-see-uh  on  de 
place  'cause  'e  wuz  so  stingy,  an'  called  'im,  Uncle 
Lije  an'  her.  Aunt  Tilly.  So,  ebery  Saturday 
night.  Uncle  Lije  'd  say  to  de  passon:  'Somepin' 
de  matteh  wid  de  big  hen-house  key.  Won't  lock ! 
I  hopes  no  or'nary  low-lived  niggeh  won't  fine  't 
out  an'  lif  ole  marse's  checkens  to-night.'  Den 
when  folks  wuz  in  bed,  de  passon  'u'd  go  creepin' 
down  de  fence  to  de  hen-house  an'  steal  two  o'  de 
fattest  an'  sweetest  ones  dere. 

"Nex'  mawnin'  'foh  de  white  folks  wuz  up,  de 


io6  MAMMY  ROSIE 

passon  would  slip  'roun'  to  Aunt  Tilly  an'  gib 
'er  one  ob  'em  an'  tell  'er  'e  done  raise  et  hisself. 

"Den  Uncle  Lije  'd  go  huntin'  fur  weasel  holes 
in  de  hen-house  floh,  an'  when  'e  could  n't  fine 
none,  he  'd  scratch  'is  head  an'  say  'e  guess  de 
weasel 's  done  crope  frew  a  crack  an'  carried  off 
'is  checkens. 

''Dey  wuz  turrible  toughs,  dem  two,  ef  dey 
could  shout  loudeh  dan  all  de  uddeh  niggehs  in 
de  county. 

''  'Deed,  ]\Iadam,"  said  Rosie,  who  suddenly 
realised  that  she  was  talking  very  loud  and  fast, 
*1  's  'fraid  I  's  makin'  yoh  tired." 

''On  the  contrary,  you  are  the  best  tonic  I 
know.  Tell  me,  how  are  you  enjoying  your  visit 
at  the  Villa  Melrose  ?" 

"Jes'  grand.  Madam!  Jes'  grand!  Why  dey 
speaks  to  yoh  at  any  time.  Guess  dey  is  n't  much 
like  de  folks  whut  ]\Iiss  Jinny's  grandpa,  Gin'ral 
Warrin'ton,  went  to  stay  wid  up  in  Pennsylvania. 
Humph !  I  guess  not.  I  hea'd  'im  tell  ole  miss 
'bout  et  when  de  two  twins  wuz  n't  no  higheh  'an 
dat. 

"Yoh  see,  de  Gin'ral  went  up  dere  to  make  a 
speech  like ;   an'  de  great  man  o'  de  place,  whut 


ROSIE  AT  NEWPORT  107 

owned  all  de  coal  in  de  state  an'  wuz  richer   an 
any  ole  dog,  invited  'im  to  stay  wid  'im. 

"Well — de  Gin'ral  said  de  man's  fambly  wuz 
jes'  too  lovely  to  'im,  an'  'e  had  a  beautiful  time 
until  'e  went  to  bed.  So  de  nex'  mawnin',  'e  got 
up  feelin'  jes'  grand  an'  wishin'  'e  could  take  all 
dem  lovely  folks  home  wid  'im  to  keep  'em  dere : 
an'  'e  goes  down  to  breakfus'. 

*'Dey  wuz  n't  nobody  'roun',  so  'e  sets  'isself  in 
de  hall  whut  wuz  big  as  any  chu'ch,  an'  waited. 

"By-um-by,  de  madam  she  comes  down  de  big 
steps. 

''De  Gin'ral  puts  'is  hand  out  in  'is  grand  way, 
like  any  pres'i-denf,  an'  bows  low,  an'  says 
'Good-mawnin',  I  hopes  yoh  's  slep'  well  ?' 

"De  madam  bends  'er  head  cold-like,  widout 
lookin'  an'  widout  takin'  'is  hand  ur  widout 
speakin',  an'  walks  straight  past  'im  into  a  doh. 

"De  Gin'ral  wuz  cussin'  mad,  an'  set  dere  'lone 
a-chewin'  'is  lips  an'  a-wonderin'  whut  'e  'd  did 
to  make  de  madam  act  like  dat. 

"Pretty  soon,  de  young  lady  daughteh  come 
down  de  steps.  So  de  Gin'ral  gits  up  ag'in  an' 
says  'Good-mawnin','  widout  puttin'  'is  hand  out 
dis  time. 


io8  MAMMY  ROSIE 

''She  did  n't  say  nothin',  but  jes'  walks  past  'im 
coldeh  dan  de  madam,  widout  lookin',  and 
straight  into  de  doh  whur  de  Ma  went. 

'*De  Gin'ral  wuz  crazy  by  dat  time.  He  felt 
aivful,  an'  wanted  to  go  straight  up  an'  pack  'is 
bag  an'  fly.  But  'e  did  n't.  He  thought  'e  'd  be 
polite  ef  dey  wuz  n't.  So  'e  waited,  feelin'  like 
fireworks ;  an'  when  de  ole  man  come  down,  'e 
jes'  set  dere  widout  movin'  ur  widout  speakin' 
jes'  to  see  whut  'u'd  happen.  An'  he  went  by,  wid 
'is  nose  in  de  air,  straight  fur  de  doh. 

"Den  de  butleh  come  out,  when  de  Gin'ral  wuz 
so  hot  'e  wuz  mos'  baked,  an'  axed  'im  in  to  pray- 
ers. 

"Well,  de  Gin'ral  v/ent,  ef  'is  mind  wuz  n't  jes' 
fixed  fur  prayin'  at  dat  minute,  fur  'e  wuz  set  on 
findin'  out  whut  'e  'd  did  to  make  'em  all  so 
hoppin' — an'  'e  'd  a  heap  ruddeh  a  fit — but  nobody 
did  n't  look  up  an'  see  et.  De  madam  held  de 
Bible  on  'er  lap  an'  read :  an'  den  she  axed  ques- 
tions ob  'em  all,  de  Gin'ral,  too :  an'  den  dey  all 
got  down  an'  prayed. 

"Et  did  n't  las'  long,  an'  when  dey  'd  said 
amen,  de  madam  come  up  to  de  Gin'ral  an'  shuk 
'is  hand  warm-like,  an'  so  did  de  young  lady,  an' 


ROSIE  AT  NEWPORT  109 

de  ole  man  too  ;  i.n  dey  wuz  loz'ely  ag'in  jes'  like 
dey  wuz  befoh  dey  went  to  bed :  an'  dey  tole  'im 
Low  dey  neveh  opened  deir  moufs  to  nobody  in 
de  mawnin'  widout  communin'  wid  de  Lawd  fust. 

'*Dat  made  de  Gin'ral  maddeh  an'  eveh,  an'  'e 
said  'e  would  n't  go  to  dat  house  ag'in  ef  'e  wuz 
settin'  in  de  poh-house  an'  'e  knowed  'e  could  git 
five  millions  o'  dollahs  fur  doin'  et;  'cause  dey 
wuz  folks  as  said  de  ole  man  had  n't  ea'ned  'is 
money  honest  an'  wuz  a  ole  hypocrite :  but  'e  only 
tole  ole  miss  dat." 

Rosie  glanced  at  the  lengthening  shadows  with- 
out and  moved  toward  the  edge  of  her  chair. 
*'Now,  Madam,  I  guess  I  mus'  go  ur  Miss 
Jinny  '11  think  I  'm  lost." 

"It 's  a  long  way,  Rosie  ;  wait  a  few  moments  ; 
one  of  the  grooms  can  drive  you  down.  I  '11 
show  you  one  of  my  new  Paris  gowns  while  he 
is  getting  ready." 

When  Rosie  had  exhausted  her  limited  stock 
of  conventional  adjectives  over  the  dinner  dress 
which  the  maid  had  laid  out  for  that  evening,  she 
was  moved  to  speak  of  Sallie  and  her  art  in 
fashioning  gowns. 

"Co'se,  Sallie  don't  pertend  to  do  nothin'  like 


no  MAMMY  ROSIE 

dem  grand  clo'es,  but  nobody  can't  make  ehery- 
day  dresses  betteh  an'  her.  Why  Miss  Tillman 
an'  Miss  McPherson  's  ben  goln'  to  'er  dese 
twenty-five  yeahs,  an'  dey  's  great  big  women, 
too,  yoh  know.  Co'se,  Madam,  yoh  does  n't  weah 
dem  trailin'  gowns  all  de  time,  so  I  'd  be  so  glad 
ef  yoh'  'd  try  Sallie  some  day,  fur  jes'  one  o'  dem 
'bout-de-house  dresses ;  not  one  o'  yoh  Sunday 
dresses  o'  co'se.  Yoh  'd  like  'er,  I'm  shuh ;  fur 
she  's  had  pertickler  luck  in  fittin'  fat  women  like 
yoh!" 

Mrs.  Hampton- Yorke  sat  down  with  a  force 
that  severely  tested  the  endurance  of  a  thin- 
legged  chair  and  laughed  so  loud  in  thinking  of 
the  choice  bits  Rosie  had  provided  for  her  din- 
ner talk  that  evening,  that  a  low-voiced  servant 
entered  and  departed  unnoticed. 

*'De  boy  says  de  kerridge  is  heah,"  said  Rosie, 
glowing  with  self-satisfaction.  ''So  I  '11  wish 
yoh  good-night.  Madam." 

"Good-night,  Rosie.  Come  soon  again  and 
cheer  me  up.  By  the  way  :  please  tell  Mrs.  Mel- 
rose I  received  her  note  and  that  I  will  be  at  her 
house    for   our   committee   meeting   to-morrow. 


ROSIE  AT  NEWPORT  iii 

Now,  you  won't  forget,  will  you  ?  It  will  save  my 
writing.     Good-night." 

Sly  old  Rosie.  Keen-witted  as  any  social  pro- 
moter, she  had  learned  to  apply  her  avocation, 
'*'makin'  de  nobility  laugh,"  to  the  benefit  of  her 
vocation  in  life. 

Elated  by  fresh  triumphs,  she  descended  the 
grand  stairway  with  the  firm,  lithe  step  of  the 
victor.  The  sordid  past  had,  for  the  moment, 
vanished  in  the  carnage  of  war,  and  Southern 
chivalry  lived  again  in  the  splendours  of  beauti- 
ful, leaf-embowered  Newport. 

Once  more  in  full  possession  of  an  hereditary 
grace  in  word  and  manner,  this  rare  old  specimen 
of  ante-helium  house-servant  made  her  adieux  to 
the  group  of  wondering  old-world  domestics 
which  assembled  in  a  side  passage  to  witness  her 
departure,  and  stepping  lightly  into  an  open 
buggy  was  driven  rapidly  away. 

"We 's  havin'  very  fine  weatheh,"  observed 
Rosie,  intent  upon  making  herself  agreeable  to 
the  smooth-faced  English  groom. 

"Hout  of  doors ;  but  not  in  the  'ouse  since  the 
hold  un  's  come  back." 


112 


MAMMY  ROSIE 


"De  hedges  heah  is  mos'  beautiful,"  said  Rosie, 
thinking  to  find  a  more  congenial  topic. 

'They  would  be  if  so  many  rotten  people  did  n't 
live  behind  'em." 

*'Oh,  et  's  always  ha'd  to  git  decent  help.  De 
mos'  ob  'em  is  sech  dirty  blackguards/'  observed 
the  old  darkey,  relapsing  into  a  habit  of  blunt 
speech  acquired  during  her  long  struggle  for  sub- 
sistence.   ''Be  careful  sonny,  don't  upset  me." 

"Don't  fret.  You  'd  go  to  'Eaven  straight 
henough." 

"Well,  I  hopes  so ;  fur  I  should  n't  like  to  go 
to  Hell  an'  have  to  meet  all  de  Newpoht  rascals 
oveh  ag'in." 

"I  say,"  exclaimed  the  groom,  with  an  admir- 
ing glance  at  his  dusky  partner,  "you  are  fun. 
You  've  got  more  sense  than  hour  'ole  bunch  o' 
white  girls." 

"I  guess  dat  's  'cause  my  great-gran'faddeh 
wuz  a — Hinglishman  r 

"See  'ere,"  said  the  groom,  edging  nearer. 
"Would  n't  you  like  to  go  to  Hingland  with  me  to 
see  your  great-grandfather?" 

Rosie  carelessly  put  up  her  hand  and  removed 
a  hat-pin :   but  as  the  space  between  her  and  the 


ROSIE  AT  NEWPORT  113 

young  man  suddenly  widened,  she  pushed  it  back 
again  and  inquired  the  name  of  the  occupant  of  a 
splendid  mansion  which  they  were  approaching. 

''Anna  Parkinson." 

"Is  she  a  friend  o'  yourn  ?" 

"No,  she  'as  n't  the  honour.  She  never  changes 
'er  'elp.  They  know  too  much  about  'er.  She  's 
hafraid  to  let  'em  go.  They  get  the  best  wages 
in  Newport." 

"Et  's  nice  to  have  money." 

"She  'as  n't  hany.  'Er  bills  hair  paid  by  hold 
Mel " 

"Oh,  my!"  exclaimed  Rosie  with  a  startled 
gesture.  "I 's  los'  my  comb.  Jes'  stop  a  minute. 
Dere  et  is,"  she  said,  turning  to  scrutinise  the 
road.    ''Does  yoh  min'  gittin'  et  fur  me,  sonny?" 

"No,  I  don't  hif  you  '11  give  me  a  kiss  when 
we  get  to  the  trees  there." 

"My  culluh  comes  off.  I  guess  yoh  'd  fine  yoh- 
self  black  whur  yoh  teched  me.  I  '11  think  'bout 
et  anyway.  Jes'  jump  out ;  I  can  hole  de  boss. 
I  wuz  raised  on  a  fahm." 

The  groom  handed  her  the  lines  and  sprang  to 
the  ground. 


114  MAMMY  ROSIE 

''Jes'  'bout  twenty  feet  back  dere,"  said  Rosie, 
bracing  her  feet  against  the  dashboard. 

Emitting  a  shrill  whistle  between  her  teeth,  she 
dropped  the  lines  sharply  on  the  horse's  back  and 
started  down  the  road  at  a  racing  trot.  Deaf  to 
the  cries  of  the  enraged  groom,  she  kept  well  in 
advance  of  his  flying  feet  and,  finally  turning  at  a 
sharp  angle,  disappeared  in  the  avenue  of  trees 
leading  to  the  mews  of  the  Villa  Melrose. 

''De  boss  's  got  a  ha'd  mouf,"  observed  Rosie, 
calmly  shaking  the  dust  from  her  black  gown, 
upon  reaching  the  stable  door. 

"Not  'alf  has  'ard  has  yours !"  roared  the  pant- 
ing groom,  as  he  halted  before  her. 

''Good-night,  Johnny.  Thank  you !"  she  said 
to  the  grinning  stable-boy  who  had  assisted  her 
to  alight. 

''An'  when  yoh  sees  my  great-gran'  faddeh," 
she  added,  with  a  contemptuous  look  at  the  crest- 
fallen groom,  "jes'  tell  'im  fur  de  sake  o'  de  good 
name  ob  'is  country,  not  to  send  oveh  no  moh 
blackleg  scoundrels  like  yoh !" 

The  following  morning,  the  governing  board 
of  "The  Association  to  Provide  and  ^laintain 
Summer  Camps  for  Poor  Boys"  had  been  one 


ROSIE  AT  NEWPORT  115 

hour  in  earnest  conclave  on  the  shady  terrace  of 
Villa  Melrose  before  Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke 
arrived,  eloquent  with  original  and  amusing 
apologies. 

Radiant  with  new  interest,  Rosie  cautiously 
poked  her  white  "company  turban"  a  little  farther 
over  the  edge  of  ''Miss  Jinny's"  vine-covered  bal- 
cony, from  whence  she  had  been  allowed  to  hear 
Thornton  and  "Misteh  Dick,"  treasurer  and  sec- 
retary, read  incomprehensible  figures  and  prosaic 
words. 

The  means  of  raising  more  money  and  extend- 
ing their  organization  had  been  variously  dis- 
cussed. 

''We  have  finally  hit  upon  a  plan  w^hich  needs 
now  only  your  co-operation,"  said  Mr.  Melrose, 
president  of  the  association,  to  Mrs.  Hampton- 
Yorke,  who  at  once  gave  solicitous  though  appre- 
hensive attention.  "And  that,"  continued  the 
president,  "is  to  arrange  a  concert  of  the  first 
order,  at  the  topmost  price,  early  in  the  season, 
before  the  public  is  purse-drained  and  music- 
saturated." 

"For  example  ?"  queried  Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke. 


ii6  MAMMY  ROSIE 

"As  Chairman  of  the  Executive  Committee," 
repHed  Mr.  ]\Ielrose. 

Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke,  recognising  the  justice 
of  a  penalty  for  her  tardiness,  hesitated  in  secret 
annoyance  before  replying. 

''Accepted!"  cried  the  president. 

"Mr.  Chairman,"  said  Dick  Wynne  hastily,  "I 
move  that  we  adjourn." 

"To  luncheon,"  added  Mrs.  Melrose.  "It  is 
two  o'clock  already." 

"Wait — wait!"  called  Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke. 
"I  accept  on  one  condition  only :  and  that  is,  that 
Reginald  Thornton  promise  me,  here,  before  all 
these  witnesses,  to  help  me  with  the  artists  and 
take  charge  behind  the  scenes  the  day  of  the  con- 
cert.   You  have  so  much  executive  ability,  Reg." 

"Of  course  he  will!"  cried  Mrs.  Parkinson. 
"For  with  the  exception  of  Preston  Carter,"  she 
added  quietly  to  Thornton,  "no  man  in  New  York 
is  better  acquainted  behind  the  scenes  than  you. 
Why,  the  other  night,  that  brazen  creature  had 
the  impudence  to  take  his  wife  to  seats  in  the 
third  row  at  the  Casino,  I  suppose  just  to  show 
the  chorus  they  need  fear  no  rival  in  her." 


ROSIE  AT  NEWPORT  117 

"But  I  don't  know  a  chorus-girl  in  New  York," 
declared  Thornton  honestly. 

''You  can  help  us  with  the  prima-donnas,  any- 
way. I  believe  you  would  run  after  a  hand- 
organ.  The  girl  who  catches  you  will  have  to 
grind  one  or  do  a  musical  turn  of  some  sort." 

"Fur  Gawd's  sake!"  muttered  Rosie,  as  the 
company  strolled  indoors.  "Why  did  n't  I  know 
dat  befoh  ?  So  et  's  music  whut  ketches  'im,  is 
et?    Huh?" 

Music  in  its  application  to  Thornton's  case,  and 
particularly  in  its  connection  with  his  prospective 
interest  in  Villa  Melrose,  constituted  the  subject 
of  Rosie's  reflections  long  after  the  company  had 
finished  luncheon  and  departed. 

Paradise  could  not  be  more  beautiful,  she 
thought,  as  she  gazed  at  the  splendid  vine-grown 
mansion  with  its  balustraded  terraces  descending, 
gay  in  shapely  bay-tree  and  variegated  flower,  to 
meet  the  limitless  expanse  of  blue  ocean;  and 
perhaps  by  a  little  scheming  it  might  all  be  hers 
to  enjoy  each  summer  until  the  Lord  sent  her  to 
"where  the  good  niggers  go !" 

The  air  was  soft,  yet  bracing,  and  of  a  purity 
such  as   she   had  never  known.     Like  balm   it 


ii8  MAMMY  ROSIE 

possessed  her  senses  and  lulled  them  to  peaceful 
rest.  As  her  eyes  closed  in  blissful  revery,  the 
music  of  old  ocean  merged  slowly  into  the  spirit 
harmonies  of  long  ago.  Once  more  in  dear  old 
Maryland  "Miss  Mary"  was  strumming  again 
the  old  guitar,  and  her  soft,  low  voice  was  sing- 
ing: "We  shall  meet,  but  we  shall  miss  him; 
there  will  be  one  vacant  chair." 

Rosie  had  nodded  too  low  and  awoke,  but  she 
remembered  the  "vacant  chair." 

"Miss  Jinny  can  keep  'im  a-settin'  in  et,"  she 
argued,  "ef  she  '11  only  leave  dat  splashin'  ole 
ocean  alone  an'  sing  or  play  to  'im.  I  '11  tell  'er 
how  Miss  ]\iary  caught  Marse  John,  an'  she  '11 
undehstan'  widout  my  sayin'  moh.  \Miy  she  can 
play  dat  big  thing  in  de  hall  whut  plays  etself, 
jes'  wid  'er  feet,  an'  talk  soft  to  'im  all  de  time, 
too." 

Somehow  the  music  in  the  hall  came  from  a 
guitar  and  to  it  ]\Iiss  ]\Iary  was  singing,  "Oh,  my 
poor  Nellie  Gray,  they  have  taken  her  away,  and 
I  '11  never  see  my  darling  any  more.  They  have 
taken  her  to  Georgia,  there  to  wxar  her  life  away, 
a  workin'  in  de  cotton,  cane  and  corn." 

Footsteps    sounded    on    the    terrace.     Rosie 


ROSIE  AT  NEWPORT  up 

straightened  up  and  rubbed  her  eyes.  Thornton 
and  Virginia  were  leaning  on  the  balustrade  look- 
ing out  to  sea ;  and  still  the  rolling  waves  broke 
in  measured  rhythm  at  the  foot  of  the  great  gray 
cliffs. 

''Dat  's  music,"  murmured  Rosie  drowsily. 
"Dat  's  de  rightest  kind  o'  music.  De  Lawd  is 
wohkin'  et  wid  'is  own  feet  to  help  de  deah  chillun 
on  to  sayin'  de  las'  wohd." 

"Don't  wake  her !"  whispered  Miss  Melrose  to 
her  maid  upon  coming  in  to  dress  for  the  after- 
noon drive.  "Sleep  is  sweet  at  her  age — dear  old 
Rosie!" 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

ROSIE  AT   THE  WALDORF. 

1.  The  Charity  Concert. 

2.  The  Prima-Donna. 

3.  The  Red  Screen. 


"All  but  dead.  Just  alive.  If  I  exist  after  to- 
day I  swear  I  will  never  again  go  on  a  committee 
with  women.  You  never  know  what  fools  they 
can  he  until  you  have  tried  it." 

Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke. 


121 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

ROSIE    AT    THE    WALDORF. 

I. — The  Charity  Concert. 

"All  for  sweet  charity/'  continued  Thorn- 
ton half  to  himself,  as  he  peered  through  the 
curtains  after  Dick;  "hut  none  in  their  hearts 
for  one  another.  They  'II  he  in  here  pres- 
ently, stabbing  people  in  the  hack  like  a  lot 
of  bandits" 


A  slave  at  heart,  Rosle  approved  none  other 
than  a  Hfe  of  bondage  for  the  black  race. 

While  under  the  spell  of  plutocratic  Newport, 
mingling  as  she  did  with  an  army  of  obsequious 
retainers,  all  of  whom  were  thoroughly  imbued 
with  the  spirit  of  caste,  Rosie  lost  the  memory  of 
freedom's  forty-odd  years  of  heart-rending  vicis- 
situdes and  she  returned  to  New  York  fondly  de- 
luding herself  with  belief  in  a  revival  of  the 
golden  days  "befoh  de  wah."  Her  gratitude  to 
123 


124  MAMMY  ROSIE 

Thornton,  to  I\Irs.  Hampton- Yorke  and  to  the 
ladies  IMelrose,  was  equalled  only  by  the  jealousy 
with  which  she  guarded  their  exalted  names. 
Their  homes  formed  a  triple  shrine  at  which  she 
worshipped  w^ith  a  heart  like  unto  a  great  geyser 
of  love.  Even  her  fondly  anticipated  "jubilee" 
became,  by  September,  a  mere  perfunctory  affair 
— a  sort  of  farewell  to  the  arrogant  leaders  of 
Seventh  Avenue  coloured  aristocracy. 

Then  Rosie  reconstructed  her  creed  and  lived 
up  to  the  dignity  of  the  wonderful  gold  frame 
which  encircled  the  likeness  of  her  grandly  be- 
decked self  and  glorified  the  section  of  wall  above 
her  bed.  Through  a  course  of  reasoning  compre- 
hensible only  to  herself,  she  conceived  the  idea 
that  an  unaccountable  delay  in  the  completion  of 
Thornton's  portrait  explained  his  lukewarm  woo- 
ing of  "Miss  Jinny,"  and  that  he  was  waiting  to 
throw  it  in  as  a  sort  of  bonus  when  he  offered 
himself.  Consequently,  every  interruption  of  the 
sittings  was  treated  with  the  most  wrathful  dis- 
favour by  the  old  darkey;  even  a  fortnight's 
visit  from  his  beloved  mother  and  sister  severely 
tested  her  loyalty.  And  scarcely  had  they  gone, 
when    preparations    were   begun    for    the    great 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF         125 

matinee  planned  at  Newport  to  aid  'The  Associa- 
tion for  Providing  and  Maintaining  Summer 
Camps  for  Poor  Boys." 

On  the  day  of  the  concert,  in  mid-December, 
Thornton  stopped  her  wearisome  imprecations 
upon  boys  in  general  by  inviting  her  to  assist 
behind  the  scenes  at  half-past  three  o'clock,  en- 
joining upon  her  the  necessity  of  appearing  in  a 
simple  black  gown  with  white  collar  and  cuffs. 

Rosie's  joy  at  this  mark  of  distinction  tem- 
porarily stifled  all  other  considerations,  and  it 
was  a  much  excited  old  mammy  that  found  her- 
self in  the  throng  crowding  the  approaches  to  the 
Grand  Ballroom  of  the  Waldorf-Astoria  shortly 
after  the  hour  appointed. 

After  dodging  about  to  consult  constantly  the 
wrong  person,  she  finally  chanced  upon  the  way 
behind  the  scenes  through  a  broad  entrance  whose 
plate-glass  doors  stood  invitingly  open.  At  first 
glance,  this  quiet  corner  under  the  first  tier  of 
boxes  appeared  deserted.  Straight  ahead,  three 
broad  steps  carpeted  in  the  prevailing  color,  royal 
red,  led  to  the  open  stage ;  and  facing  her,  over 
the  tops  of  the  palms  banking  each  end,  rose  the 


126  MAMMY  ROSIE 

two  tiers  of  plush  and  gold  boxes  which  almost 
encircled  the  splendid  auditorium. 

Heavy  curtains  shut  out  the  light  of  day  on 
the  left,  whilst  another  set  divided  this  artist's 
nook  from  the  audience  on  the  right ;  and  here, 
at  the  parting  of  the  folds,  Rosie  came  upon 
Thornton's  "visiting  valet,"  Fritz,  deep  in  con- 
templation of  the  gathering  crowd. 

"So  dat  's  de  way  yoh  does  de  young  masteh's 
wohk,  is  et?    Huh?" 

The  old  darkey's  grimace  at  receiving  no  re- 
sponse foreboded  evil  for  the  negligent  lad.  She 
glanced  helplessly  at  the  objects  in  the  room, 
then,  earnestly  at  her  empty  hands,  and  suddenly 
bethought  herself  of  a  more  effective  weapon. 
With  a  malicious  look  she  drew  a  long  hat-pin, 
held  it  manacingly  before  her  dilating  eyes,  and 
moved  on  tiptoe  toward  the  unsuspecting 
Fritz. 

On  second  thought  she  halted,  restored  the 
hat-pin  to  its  place,  and  pushed  the  sharp  point 
to  its  limit.  Then,  nearing  him  softly,  she 
stooped  to  pick  up  his  hat.  A  deft  twist  of  her 
head,  a  cry  of  pain,  and  the  valet  fell  into  a  blind 
struggle  with  the  curtains. 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF         127 

"Fritzie,  deah!"  exclaimed  the  old  darkey  be- 
nignly.    ''Did  one  o'  my  rose-tho'ns  stick  yoh?" 

''What  you  mean?"  cried  the  lad,  snatching 
angrily  at  his  hat.    "You  old  PUngstochsr 

Rosie's  spirited  imitation  of  "Pfingstochs" 
sounded  like  a  gasoline  "pit-put"  in  motion.  "I 
is  n't  goin'  to  have  no  sech  'ludin's  to  my  fambly 
in  disrespectable  Dutch,"  she  cried,  as  she  drew 
the  cruel  hat-pin  and  drove  the  valet  toward  the 
door.  "I  's  'ristocratic  ef  my  skin  is  black ;  an' 
all  de  Dutch  rolled  into  one  is  n't  dat !  Take  yoh 
place  an'  shet  dem  dohs !"  she  added,  with  an 
imperious  flourish  of  the  hat-pin.  "Yoh  's  heah 
to  open  an'  shet  'em  fur  de  musicianers." 

"Hello,  Rosie !"  cried  Dick  Wynne,  as  the  plush 
curtains  fell  to  behind  him.     "You  here?" 

"Yes,  Misteh  Dick.  I 's  a-helpin'  de  lady- 
musicianers  off  wid  deir  clo'es." 

"And  I  am  head  usher,"  laughed  Dick ;  "a 
regular  family  affair,  is  it  not?  Where  is  Mr. 
Thornton?" 

"Here  he  is,  Mr.  Wynne,"  replied  Fritz,  hold- 
ing back  a  wing  of  the  door. 

"I  say,  Reg,"  exclaimed  Dick,  hurrying  toward 


128  MAMMY  ROSIE 

him,  "the  floor  is  packed  and  people  pouring  in. 
What  shall  we  do?" 

''Fill  in  under  the  balcony  with  gilt  chairs," 
replied  Thornton  with  an  air  of  proprietorship, 
"and  remember:  the  instant  the  music  begins, 
close  the  doors  upstairs  and  down,  and  don't  let 
a  soul  enter  or  leave  until  the  number  is  finished : 
and  tell  the  boys  to  enforce  silence — even  if  they 
have  to  hiss." 

"All  for  sweet  charity,"  continued  Thornton, 
half  to  himself,  as  he  peered  through  the  cur- 
tains after  Dick,  "but  none  in  their  hearts  for 
one  another.  They  '11  be  in  here  presently,  stab- 
bing people  in  the  back  like  a  lot  of  bandits." 

He  turned  away  with  a  sigh  and  stood  looking 
at  Rosie's  hat. 

"Where  did  you  get  that?" 

"Miss  Jinny  gib  et  to  me,"  said  Rosie  with  a 
guilty  smile,  mindful  of  his  orders. 

"Miss  Melrose  should  not  give  you  such  con- 
spicuous things,"  said  Thornton,  with  unmistak- 
able annoyance. 

"Oh,  don't  say  dat,  honey!"  replied  Rosie  im- 
pulsively.    "Miss  Jinny  lubs  yoh  so  much!" 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF         129 

"Rosie!"  he  said  sharply.  ''Don't  let  me  hear 
you  speak  that  way  again !" 

"Well!  Mr.  Tho'nton,  chile,"  declared  the 
much  indulged  old  mammy,  with  full  apprecia- 
tion of  her  opportunity,  *T  is  n't  blind  ef  yoh  isT 

"Go  take  it  off!"  he  commanded,  with  a  pecu- 
liar tremor  in  his  voice.    ''This  instant !" 

"Whut?  My  hat?  My  beautiful  hat  wid  de 
wide  ribbons  an'  de  great  red  roses  !"  she  moaned, 
as  she  shuffled  dejectedly  away.  At  the  door  she 
halted  for  a  last  word :  "Is  I  got  to  take  off  my 
pink  cawsets  an'  my  blue  gahtehs?  She  give 
'em  to  me,  too  !    Huh  ?" 

Thornton  turned  silently  away  to  study  the 
rapidly  filling  boxes,  and  Fritz  replied  for  him 
with  a  wink. 

"Fritz !"  ejaculated  Rosie  in  awesome  tones. 
"Ef  yoh  fohgitteh  wuz  a  thinkeh — yoh — would  n't 
— make  faces — at — de  cook!  Yoh  '11  be — sorry — 
when  yoh  's — hongry." 

Rosie  stepped  indignantly  over  the  threshold 
and  removing  her  hat,  deposited  it  on  a  chair 
next  to  a  table  heaped  high  with  superb  flowers 
for  the  artists,  and  demurely  returned  to  the 
artists'  corner  as  the  curtains  were  held  apart  by 


I30  MAMMY  ROSIE 

two  ushers  and  IMrs.  Hampton- Yorke  swept 
majestically  up  to  Thornton. 

"Buon  giorno,  Maestro!"  she  articulated  with 
emphasis.    "How  are  you?'' 

''A  little  foot-light  fever/'  he  replied,  lifting 
her  hand  to  his  lips,  ''that  is  all.  How  are 
you  ?" 

''All  but  dead!  Just  alive !  If  I  exist  after  to- 
day, I  swear  to  you  I  Vv^ll  never  again  go  on  a 
committee  with  women.  You  never  know  what 
fools  they  can  be  until  you  have  tried  it.  Why, 
they  have  run  confusion  into  my  household  and 
even  into  my  social  engagements.  Instead  of 
going  to  ]\Irs.  Winton's  luncheon  last  week,  I 
went  f 0-day  and  found  her  alone,  eating  a  tough 
omelette  ofif  dirty  linen.  I  had  always  heard 
she  lived  like  a  pig  in  order  to  entertain  three 
times  a  year.  Served  her  right  to  be  caught, 
'though  it  did  give  me  frightful  indigestion.  Is 
everything  all  right  ?" 

"Thus  far,"  laughed  Thornton,  rapping  thrice 
on  the  table  and  handing  her  a  programme.  'T 
think  it  looks  rather  well.    Don't  you  ?" 

''New  York  has  never  seen  anything  like  it," 
affirmed  Mrs.  Hampton- Yorke. 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF         131 

Lifting  her  lorgnettes  she  read  aloud : 
''Concert  for  the  benefit  of  the  Fund  for  Pro- 
viding and  Maintaining  Summer  Camps  for  Poor 
Boys,  Grand  Ballroom  of  the  Waldorf-Astoria 
Hotel,  Thursday  Afternoon,  December  Fifteenth, 
at  Four  O'clock.  Madame  Stella,  Miss  Lucille 
Brandon,  Signor  Nitroni  and  Signor  di  Biancho. 
Mr.  Johannes  Eckhoff  at  the  Piano. 

''Programme,"  she  continued,  turning  the 
page.  "Nine  numbers.  Just  long  enough.  Stella, 
three  times!  What  a  dear!  She  has  been  so 
sweet  about  the  whole  thing." 

"Very  true,"  said  Thornton,  "for  she  's  awfully 
mercenary,  and  hates  to  sing  for  nothing;  but, 
she  has  vowed  vengeance  on  me  for  getting  her 
into  it.  So,  I  told  her  we  had  appealed  to  her 
because  we  knew  she  liked — the  hoys." 

"Well?"  questioned  Mrs.  Hampton- Yorke 
eagerly. 

"That  put  her  in  a  good  humour." 
"But  what  did  she  say  ?" 

"You  are  right,  I  do:  only— I  prefer 

them  a  trifle  older !" 

"Does  n't  all  creation  know  it  ?"  shrieked  Mrs. 
Hampton- Yorke  in  delight.    "After  that  scandal- 


132  MAMMY  ROSIE 

ous  affair  with  Prince  Charlie  she  ought  to  fall  on 
her  bended  knees  before  us  and  beg  permission 
to  sing !  She  needs  our  backing  to  reinstate  her- 
self. That  is  why  she  consented  to  sing  gratui- 
tously to-day!  Look  at  that  list  of  patronesses! 
Every  New  York  woman  of  social  prominence! 

'Then,  too,"  added  Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke,  with 
a  mysterious  air,  ''it  is  something  to  her  to  be  led 
upon  the  platform  by  New  York's  most  distin- 
guished social  and  financial  representative!" 

"Hugh  Melrose?"  inquired  Thornton  in  sur- 
prise. 

"Did  I  not  tell  you?" 

"I  thought  you  a  friend  of  his  wife?"  said 
Thornton  significantly. 

"Don't!"  protested  Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke,  with 
eloquent  gesture.  "It  has  w^orn  my  conscience 
threadbare,  already.  But  one  must  make  sacri- 
fices for  charity,  you  know." 

"They  say"  she  added,  when  Thornton's  laugh- 
ter had  subsided,  "if  she  once  get  her  eye  on  a 
man,  he  may  as  well  throw  up  his  hands  first  as 
last." 

"It  wall  be  an  even  race  between  her  and  Mel- 
rose, I  fear,"  said  Thornton,  shaking  his  head. 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF        133 

"Melrose!"  Mrs.  Hampton- Yorke  lifted  her 
hands  in  horror.  "Establishments  here — there — 
everywhere !  I  'm  in  a  perfect  fever  about  bring- 
ing that  pair  together." 

"I  don't  care  what  happens,  if  Stella  only 
arrive  on  time,"  said  Thornton,  glancing  anx- 
iously at  his  watch. 

"Are  the  other  artists  here?" 

"All  of  them.  Listen!  Open  the  door  an  in- 
stant, Fritz." 

As  the  boy  obeyed,  a  wave  of  discord  rushed 
out  at  them.  The  tenor  was  running  up,  and  the 
bass  down  the  scale,  with  the  violin  wailing  in 
agony  over  both. 

"Sounds  like  a  menagerie!"  declared  Mrs. 
Hampton-Yorke,  turning  to  scan  the  boxes 
through  the  palms.    "Can't  recognise  a  soul." 

"Fritz,"  said  Thornton,  again  glancing  ner- 
vously at  his  watch,  "tell  the  electrician  to  turn 
on  the  lights.  We  begin  in  five  minutes,"  he 
added,  as  a  flood  of  brilliant  light  suddenly  illum- 
inated each  face  in  the  fashionably  dressed  audi- 
ence to  the  furthermost  corners  of  the  splendid 
ballroom. 

"What  treachery!"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Hampton- 


134  MAMMY  ROSIE 

Yorke,  seemingly  in  response  to  a  hum  of  expec- 
tancy without. 

"See  here,  Thornton.  It's  an  outrage,"  she 
continued,  shaking  her  diamond-studded  lorgn- 
ettes at  the  opposite  side  of  the  house ;  "the  two 
most  conspicuous  boxes  in  the  first  tier  packed 
with  Mrs.  Bancker's  poor  relations !  I  am  not  a 
snob,  as  you  know ;  but  you  can  not  get  on  with- 
out figureheads  in  New  York.  Some  incongru- 
ous phase  of  republicanism  demands  them,  and  a 
democratic  public  tips  its  nose  if  they  are  not 
nailed  to  the  front  row.  The  matter  was  fully 
discussed  in  meeting  and  made  a  feature  of  this 
entertainment.  We  catered  to  idiotic  tastes  in 
order  to  make  friends  as  well  as  money  for  our 
charity.  I  knew  the  Banckers  were  out  of  town 
until  Christmas  and  said  so;  but  Anna  Parkin- 
son, in  order  to  effect  some  trivial  personal  gain, 
has  ruined  the  tone  of  our  entire  house.  I 
should  not  blame  Stella  for  claiming  she  had  been 
coaxed  here  under  false  promises  and  refusing  to 
sing.  We  assured  her  the  Ultra-Smart  Set  would 
be  here  in  a  body  to  give  her  a  rousing  welcome : 
and  that,  she  knows,  is  all  she  needs  to  make 
society  reporters  cease  wondering  whether  she  is 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF         135 

to  be  recognised  socially  in  the  face  of  those  hor- 
rible scandals." 

"Oh,  my  dears !"  cried  a  penetrating  voice ; 
and  Mrs.  Francis  Parkinson,  radiantly  conscious 
of  her  priceless  sables,  dropped  the  red  curtains 
between  her  excited  self  and  the  envious  throng 
under  the  boxes.  "Why  did  n't  we  ask  ten  dol- 
lars a  ticket.  The  place  is  so  packed  I  could 
scarcely  wedge  through  under  the  balcony. 
People  would  have  paid  any  price  to  see  Stella  at 
close  range  after  all  that  newspaper  notoriety. 
Is  n't  it  azi'ful  how  we  let  our  opportunities  slip ! 
Well,"  she  added  with  resignation,  "as  it  is,  we 
have  over  six  thousand  dollars,  not  counting  the 
money  taken  in  at  the  door." 

"Look!"  responded  Mrs.  Hampton- Yorke, 
directing  attention  to  Mrs.  Bancker's  eager 
guests.     "What — did — I  tell  you?" 

"Heah  dat,  Fritz?"  whispered  Rosie,  turning 
her  contemptuous  gaze  away  from  Mrs.  Parkin- 
son. "De  Bible  says,  'Dem  as  has,  gits !'  Ft 's 
mighty  suhtain  dat  dem  as  has  n't,  does  n't  git. 
Thank  Gawd,  Roxana  's  got  'nough  to  bury  'er- 
self  wid  an'  fool  de  night-doctehs  while  she  's 
decent — an' — clean!    Humph!"  she  finished,  with 


136  MAMMY  ROSIE 

a  disdainful  snort  for  the  account  of  the  lady  in 
sables. 

Fritz  opened  the  door  for  a  busy  little  man 
with  eye-glasses,  who  rushed  in,  watch  in  hand. 

"Four  o'clock,"  he  said  to  Thornton.  ''Shall  I 
begin  ?" 

The  amateur  impresario  continued  to  fumble 
his  watch  nervously,  and  again  he  glanced  dubi- 
ously at  the  corridor  beyond  the  glass  doors.  "I 
say,  Eckhoff ;  one  day  of  this  will  do  for  a  life- 
time!" 

'Tt  fills  sanitariums,"  said  the  accompanist, 
vvith  a  quiet  smile. 

"And  yet,"  continued  Thornton,  "an  unsym- 
pathetic public  resents  it  if  an  impresario  wear  a 
halo  for  the  briefest  interval  of  time." 

"Don't  worry,"  admonished  Eckhoff,  "Stella  is 
third  on  the  programme  and  sure  to  be  here  by 
that  time.  You  must  accord  to  prima-donnas  a 
little  more  license  than  to  other  people." 

"Very^  well,"  sighed  Thornton.  "Bring  the 
violinist  in.    We  will  begin  at  once." 

" Whut  's  de  matteh,  dahlin'  ?"  inquired  Rosie 
of  Thornton,  as  Fritz  let  the  accompanist  pass 
out. 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF         137 

"Madame  Stella  is  not  here." 

''She  '11  come.  My  Lawd,  dere  's  Miss  Annie 
an'  Miss  Jinny.    Dey  '11  cheer  yoh  up,  honey." 

The  two  ladies  had  just  come  within  the  cur- 
tains as  Thornton  turned  to  receive  them. 

"All  sorts  of  disquieting  rumours  are  afloat," 
began  Mrs.  Melrose,  with  a  show  of  anxiety. 
"The  audience  thinks  Stella  is  not  to  sing.  Some 
say  she  has  pneumonia ;  others,  that  she  has  been 
injured  in  a  collision  on  the  avenue; " 

"What?"  cried  Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke,  who  had 
heard  only  the  last  words.    "A  collision  ?" 

"It  is  only  a  report,"  said  Mrs.  Melrose,  trying 
to  quell  the  alarm  of  the  group  forming  around 
her. 

"Some  think  she  had  no  intention  of  singing  at 
all,"  added  Virginia. 

"Why  do  people  start  such  silly  rumours?" 
inquired  Thornton  as  he  and  Virginia  drew  away 
from  the  matrons. 

"It  is  perfectly  natural,"  said  Virginia.  "The 
first  concert  appearance  of  the  greatest  star  at  the 
opera  is  an  event.  I  never  knew  such  excitement 
about  a  singer,  anyway.  People  are  craay  about 
her  voice.    Mr.  Wynne  has  just  had  all  the  glass 


138  MAMMY  ROSIE 

doors  thrown  open  and  the  ticket-takers  changed 
to  the  outer  entrance  in  order  to  accommodate  the 
overflow  in  the  foyer." 

A  heavy  door  at  the  farther  end  of  the  artists' 
corridor  swung  back  and  Thornton  started  eagerly 
forward.  \'irginia  put  out  her  hand  to  stop  him. 
"It  is  only  Uncle  Hugh,"  she  said. 

*'Am  I  too  early?"  inquired  jlr.  ]\Ielrose,  step- 
ping leisurely  over  the  threshold. 

"Madame  Stella  has  not  arrived.  We  expect 
her  at  any  moment.  We  are  ten  minutes  late 
and " 

"Is  not  this  she  ?"  said  ^Ir.  ]\Ielrose,  interrupt- 
ing Thornton,  as  Fritz  again  opened  the  door. 

A  breathless  silence  in  the  artists'  corner  greeted 
the  entrance  of  a  mature-faced  young  violinist 
in  very  short  skirts,  who  was  followed  by  the 
accompanist  and  a  middle-aged  lady,  evidently 
her  mother,  carr^ang  a  folio  of  music  and  a  violin. 

An  anxious  group  surrounded  Eckhoff,  whilst 
Rosie  relieved  the  young  artist  of  her  cloak  and 
indicated  a  corner  table  to  Mrs.  Brandon. 

"What  of  Stella?"  queried  ]\Irs.  Hampton- 
Yorke. 

"She  was  in  glorious  voice  last  night  at  seven 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF         139 

o*clock  when  I  rehearsed  with  her,"  rephed  Eck- 
hoff.  ''She  is  probably  delayed  on  the  avenue. 
It  is  always  blocked  at  this  hour.  I  '11  go  right 
on  with  Miss  Brandon,  anyway,  and  if  she  is  n't 
here  when  we  finish,  we  '11  take  an  encore — 
quick  r  The  accompanist  moved  off  with  a 
laugh  and  began  to  assort  the  music  lying  on  the 
table. 

Mrs.  Melrose  and  Mrs.  Parkinson  turned  to 
converse  with  Mrs.  Brandon  and  Lucille,  who 
was  tuning  her  violin. 

Mr.  Melrose  and  Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke,  with 
their  eyes  on  Thornton  and  Virginia,  were  speak- 
ing earnestly  in  subdued  voices  when  interrupted 
by  an  inquiry  from  Mrs.  Parkinson :  "You  know 
Mrs.  Brandon?" 

"Brandon?"  repeated  Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke 
mechanically.  "Brandon?  The  mother  of  the 
violinist?" 

"Yes." 

"Of  course.  A  pretty,  sweet-faced  woman.  I 
met  her  some  years  ago  in  London." 

"She  says  you  never  remember  her  when  you 
meet." 

"Then  why  does  n't  she  speak  to  me  ?" 


I40  MAMMY  ROSIE 

"She  's  sensitive." 

"Sensitive?  Sensitive?"  retorted  Mrs.  Hamp- 
ton-Yorke  derisively.  "Humph !  Then  why  did 
she  come  to  New  York?  New  York  is  no  place 
for  sensitive  people !" 

"She  is  right  here,"  said  Mrs.  Parkinson, 
softly. 

Mrs.  Hampton- Yorke  lifted  her  lorgnettes  ag- 
gressively, and  drew  back  for  a  comprehensive 
view  of  the  two  Brandons.  "How^  the  daughter 
has  grown !  She  can't  be  a  day  under  twenty. 
Now — why  do  they  show  her  legs  like  that?" 

"Oh,  my  dear,  do  be  careful,"  said  Mrs.  Parkin- 
son, turning  from  the  Brandons  with  a  nervous 
laugh.  "They  must,  you  know^  It  is  their  first 
season  in  America  and  those  legs  are  part  of  the 
business.  They  have  to  keep  her  the  'Child 
Prodigy'  in  order  to  make  it  pay.  Unfortunately, 
her  art  has  not  grown  with  her  body.  They  claim 
she  is  only  fourteen." 

"I  see !  I  see !  They  worked  it  the  opposite 
way  and  ran  a  new  tuck  in  her  skirt  each  birth- 
day.   Where  do  they  propose  to  draw  the  line?" 

Dick  Wynne  suddenly  dashed  through  the  cur- 
tains   and    up    to    Thornton.     "It    was    marked 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF        141 

'urgent/  "  he  said,  extending  a  sealed  envelope, 
"so  I  thought  you  ought  to  have  it  at  once." 

"Good  heavens!"  muttered  Thornton,  hastily 
tearing  it  open.  "Just  as  I  expected,"  he  added 
excitedly.  "It 's  from  Stella !  Ask  Eckhoff  to 
step  this  way." 

The  three  men  conversed  inaudibly,  although 
the  assembled  company  listened  in  breathless 
silence;  for,  in  the  auditorium,  light,  isolated 
plaudits  had  increased  in  volume  until  the  great 
audience  now^  thundered  out  its  impatience. 

Eckhoff  drew  Dick  to  the  curtains  long  enough 
to  locate  some  one  for  him  in  the  crowd,  then, 
turning  to  Lucille,  led  her  quickly  to  the  plat- 
form. 

Thornton  hastened  to  the  curtains  as  a  brilliant 
burst  of  music  marked  the  opening  of  the  concert, 
and  spent  a  moment  anxiously  scanning  a  distant 
part  of  the  house,  before  he  turned  to  the  silent 
group  behind  the  scenes  and  motioned  for  all  to 
draw  nearer. 

Deaf  to  the  sound  of  the  violin,  they  listened  in 
a  leaden  silence  like  that  which  sometimes  pre- 
cedes a  destructive  storm,  while  Thornton  read 
aloud  the  letter  in  his  hand. 


142  MAAniY  ROSIE 

"  'Dear  Mr.  Thornton : 

"  T  am  in  despair !  I  cannot  possibly  sing  this 
afternoon.  I  awoke  hoarse  this  morning;  and 
no  amount  of  skilled  treatment  has,  thus  far,  re- 
lieved me.  I  hoped,  from  hour  to  hour,  that  I 
could  go  on  and  sing  one  song  at  least  in  order 
not  to  disappoint  the  committee  and  the  public. 
Please  tell  them  both  how  grieved  I  am.'  " 

''Grieved!"  interrupted  Mrs.  Hampton- 
Yorke  in  a  rage.  "She  grieved !  Little  she  cares 
— the  nasty  thing.  She  is  a  creature  of  impulse, 
as  her  whole  career  abroad  proves.  She  deserves 
all  they  say  about  her !  Don't  you  see  her  trick  ? 
She  sends  word  at  the  last  moment  in  order  to 
prevent  our  getting  another  prima-donna  to  take 
her  place:  for  she  knows  they  would  all  give 
their  heads  to  have  her  chance  with  such  a  pub- 
lic,— such  a " 

Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke  met  Airs.  T^Ielrose's 
steady  gaze  for  an  instant  and  added  mildly, 
" list  of  patronesses." 

"How  can  we  ever  face  that  audience  now!" 
moaned  Mrs.  Melrose. 

"It  is  the  unkindest  thing  I  ever  knew !"  added 
Virginia,  with  unusual  severity. 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF         143 

"It  is  the  meanest!"  added  Mrs.  Parkinson, 
bitterly.  "Five  dollars  a  ticket!  One  hundred 
dollars  for  boxes !  Oh !  It  is  detestable  in  Stella ! 
The  Fresh  Air  Fund  people  will  make  our  winter 
unbearable,  gibing  us  about  it !" 

"It 's  a  public  insult  to  Society — individually; 
and — we  can't  let  it  go  unrebuked  at  the  opera !" 
cried  Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke. 

"Primia-donnas  will  be  prima-donnas/'  said 
Mr.  Melrose,  with  the  wise  smile  of  the  experi- 
enced opera-director. 

"Please  give  Mr.  Thornton  a  chance  to  finish," 
said  Virginia,  with  whom  he  had  shared  the 
offending  letter  for  perusal. 

The  indignant  matrons  were  silenced  with 
effort  before  Thornton  was  allovs^ed  to  continue 

reading:     "'If  you   knew   how   it   hurts '" 

"Hurts!"  sniffed  Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke  scorn- 
fully. "  ' hurts  me  to  do  this,'  "  Thornton  re- 
peated with  emphasis,  "  'you  would  all  feel  a  little 

sympathy '  "       "Sympathy !"     hissed     Mrs. 

Parkinson.    "Yes  :  she  '11  get  sympathy  when  the 

public   hears    this !"      "  ' sympathy    for    me, 

too,'  "  resumed  Thornton.     "  T  can  appease  my 


144  MAMMY  ROSIE 

own  feelings  only  by  enclosing  a  cheque  to  aid 
your  noble  charity. 

"  'With  the  request  that  you  make  my  very  sin- 
cere apologies  to  your  distinguished  committee 
and  to  the  audience,  I  am, 

"  'Faithfully  yours, 

''  'Marie  Stella/  " 

"Postscript!"  cried  Virginia,  holding  a  bank- 
cheque  face  out  that  all  might  read. 

"One  thousand  dollars !"  vociferated  the 
matrons  in  concert.    "One  thousand  dollars!" 

"Really,  that  is  too  sweet  of  her,"  said  Mrs. 
Melrose  emphatically ;  "for  she  can't  be  so  enor- 
mously rich." 

"Well,"  was  Mrs.  Parkinson's  verdict,  "she 
is  sincere,  at  least." 

"She  is  more,"  added  Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke, 
"she  is  noble!  I  don't  believe  any  of  the  nasty 
things  they  have  said  about  her.  She  's  a  decent 
woman.  I  shall  stop  in  to  see  her  on  my  way 
home  and  arrange  a  dinner  in  her  honour." 

"So  shall  I,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Melrose,  with 
unwonted  frankness.  "Or  rather — ,"  he  added, 
upon  noting  the  frigid  silence  with  which  his 
generous  declaration  had  been  received,  "you  will 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF         145 

— Anna.  You  and  Virginia  ought  to  inquire 
after  her,  at  least — on  your  way  home." 

*'We  will,  Uncle  Hugh,"  said  Virginia,  coming 
loyally  to  his  aid,  ''for  my  sympathy  has  gone 
over  to  Madame  Stella.  Only  a  good  heart  could 
prompt  such  an  act.  The  calcium-light  of  pub- 
licity magnifies  very  petty  details  sometimes." 

"It  is  certainly  pleasanter  behind  than  in  frojtt 
of  it — just  now,"  observed  Mrs.  Hampton- Yorke, 
with  a  gesture  to  indicate  both  the  audience  and 
the  catastrophe  descending  upon  it. 

"Rather!"  declared  Mrs.  Parkinson,  with  dra- 
matic fervour. 

"It  is  a — plight,"  said  Mrs.  Melrose  woefully. 
"What  j/ia//wedo?" 

"All  right,  Reg!  She  will  do  it!"  cried  Dick 
Wynne,  hurrying  through  the  door — unseen  by 
the  excited  group. 

"Who?  What?"  cried  everybody,  rushing 
toward  him. 

"Sing!"  laughed  Dick.  "She'll  go  to  the 
artists'  room  with  Mrs.  Eckhoff  as  soon  as  that 
child  finishes  playing." 

"But  who?"  cried  all  impatiently. 


146  MAMMY  ROSIE 

"Some  prima-donna ;    I  don't  know  her  name. 
Do  you,  Reg?" 

"1  don't  recall  it;  but  Eckhoff  says  she  will 
create  a  regular  furor." 

*'Is  she  from  the  opera?"  inquired  Mrs.  Mel- 
rose. 

''Not  ours,"  replied  Thornton.  ''She  's  from 
Italy  ;  an  utter  stranger  ;  arrived  only  last  week  ;•. 
a  pupil  of  Eckhoff's  years  ago:  came  with  his 
wife  to-day." 

The  relieved  sigh  of  the  group  was  lost  in  a 
storm  of  applause  from  without,  and  Eckhoff, 
followed  by  Lucille  Brandon  in  a  glow  of  en- 
thusiasm over  her  triumph,  tripped  lightly  down 
the  steps  into  the  artists'  corner. 

"Back,  my  dear,  back  and  bow,"  cried  Thorn- 
ton, hurrying  the  violinist  toward  the  stage. 
"Take  your  encore  after  your  second  number; 

not  now." 

"We  must  push  straight  along,"  said  Thornton 
to  Eckhoff,  "or  we  '11  never  finish  on  time  and  the 
artists  will  go  crazy  if  they  see  the  audience  thin 
out.  There  is  Nitroni  at  the  door.  Rush  him 
right  out.  The  lady  will  sing;  so  we  are  all 
right." 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF         147 

The  applause  ceased  abruptly  as  Lucille  de- 
scended the  steps  the  second  time,  and  Nitroni, 
escorted  by  Eckhoff,  strode  magnificently 
through,  bowing  without  looking  at  the  smiles 
of  greeting. 

*'They  hate  to  talk  before  singing,"  said  Thorn- 
ton apologetically,  and  the  onlookers  patted 
their  hands  gently  as  the  favourite  bass  of  the 
opera  ascended  the  steps. 

In  an  instant  Nitroni  had  wheeled  about  and, 
feeling  himself  well  out  of  the  way,  bowed  and 
smiled  recognition  to  each  in  turn. 

"Hurry  up,  Nitroni.  They  '11  have  a  fit ; 
they'll  think  you  are  not  coming!"  cried  Thorn- 
ton, running  up  the  steps. 

Nitroni  laughed  good-naturedly,  and  hurried 
through  the  palms  to  receive  a  demonstrative 
welcome  from  the  audience. 

*'So  far,  good!"  exclaimed  Thornton,  as  the 
piano  sounded  without.  "Now  who  is  going  to 
make  the  speech?" 

"You !"  cried  all  in  unison. 

"And  hear  them  say,  Tt  all  comes  of  letting  an 
amateur  run  the  show'  ?  Not  I ;  you  will  all  recall 
my  promise  to  help  behind  the  scenes  on  condi- 


148  MAMMY  ROSIE 

tion  that  no  one  mentioned  my  connection 
with  it." 

'That  is  true,"  repHed  Mrs.  Melrose.  "Where 
is  Hugh?"  He  was  not  visible,  and  neither  nook 
nor  cranny  was  large  enough  to  conceal  him. 
''You  see,"  continued  his  wife,  ''the  men  leave  it 
to  us.  Well,  my  dear,  there  is  no  help  for  it,  you 
will  have  to  go  on  and  make  the  speech." 

"I?"  shouted  ^Irs.  Hampton-Yorke,  in  close 
rivalry  to  Nitroni's  resonant  tones. 

"Certainly!  You  are  a  recognised  leader. 
Your  mere  appearance  on  the  platform  would 
atone  in  great  measure  for  Stella's  absence." 

"What?  Lend  myself  to  such  a  dime-museum 
act?" 

"I  tell  you,  my  dear,  this  is  no  jesting  matter. 
Those  people  have  paid  their  mioney  to  us  and 
we  must  give  them  full  return  or  bear  the  con- 
sequences. You  are  chairman  of  the  concert 
committee,  anyway." 

"I  don't  care  what  I  am.  Every  one  of  those 
boys  may  land  in  the  bottom  of  the  lake  before 
I  will  do  such  a  thing !" 

''''  'One  must  make  sacrifices  for  charity,  you 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF         149 

know' "  said  Thornton,  with  a  significant  smile. 
"Think  of  the  audience." 

''The  audience  can  go  to  the  Devil !"  declared 
Mrs.  Hampton- Yorke  planting  herself  square- 
ly and  defiantly  on  a  trembling  gilt  chair.  ''Noth- 
ing short  of  a  derrick  can  move  me  now !" 

"But  think,  my  dear,"  groaned  Mrs.  Parkin- 
son ;  "five  dollars  a  ticket !" 

"To  see  the  heroine  of  the  scandal !"  retorted 
the  chairman  of  the  concert  committee.  "You 
had  the  sale  of  tickets  and  boxes.  Why  don't 
you  go  on?" 

"As  one  of  the  Melrose  Harem,"  she  added, 
turning  away  that  none  but  Thornton  might  hear. 

"Oh,  no!" 

"Certainly,"  insisted  Mrs.  Hampton- Yorke, 
nettled  by  Mrs.  Parkinson's  nervous  wailing; 
"she  never  kept  a  carriage  until  he  took  charge 
of  her  investments." 

"I?"  cried  the  lady  of  the  sables,  smarting 
under  the  innuendo  evident  in  Mrs.  Hampton- 
Yorke's  sarcasm.  "I?  Nothing  would  induce 
me !  I  would  rather  face  a  jungle !  I  can  never 
look  one  of  them  in  the  eyes  again!  Dear  Mrs. 
Melrose,"    she    continued    persuasively,     "your 


I50  MAMMY  ROSIE 

presence  alone  would  inspire  confidence.  People 
would  never  question  our  good  intentions  if  you 
went  on  and  explained  to  them." 

''Some  one  ought  to  say  a  courteous  word  to 
the  prima-donna,"  responded  Mrs.  ]\Ielrose, 
calmly  taking  her  departure. 

As  the  glass  door  closed  after  her,  Virginia 
gave  a  surprised  laugh.  '*AVhy  here  is  Uncle 
Hugh !"  she  said,  dragging  him  out  of  the  cur- 
tains where  he  had  been  watching  the  audience. 
*'He  will  do  it,  I  know." 

''Of  course !"  cried  the  others. 

"It  w^as  n't  nice  of  you  to  let  us  get  into  another 
fight.  It  is  the  fiftieth  since  w^e  organised  our 
committee,"  said  Mrs.  Hampton- Yorke,  encour- 
aged by  Mr.  ]\Ielrose's  mischievous  smile. 

"The  people  outside  enjoyed  it  so  much.  It 
would  have  been  a  pity  to  disappoint  them." 

"Did  we  talk  too  loud?"  inquired  ]\Irs.  Parkin- 
son. 

"No  matter,"  said  ]\Ir.  ^lelrose  soothingly; 
"they  '11  never  complain  about  not  getting  their 
money's  worth." 

]Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke  laughed;  Mrs.  Parkin- 
son sulked ;  and  Nitroni  came  leisurely  down  the 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF         151 

steps  followed  by  great  applause  and  isolated 
braz'i  from  the  audience. 

The  artist  gracefully  acknowledged  the  greet- 
ing behind  the  scenes,  and  quickly  returned  to 
make  his  bow.  As  he  again  came  into  the  palms 
the  plaudits  abruptly  ceased  and  dead  silence  fell 
over  the  audience. 

"Unheard  of!"  said  Mrs.  Parkinson  under  her 
breath.  "Nitroni  always  gets  a  double  encore. 
They  are  simply  mad  to  hear  Stella !" 

"Our  entire  future,  our  lives  even,  hang  upon 
that  girl,"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Hampton- Yorke,  half 
closing  her  eyes  and  sniffing  resignedly  at  a  be- 
jewelled vinaigrette.  "I  wonder  what  she  is 
like." 

There  was  no  one  to  reply. 

Eckhoff  had  hastened  to  the  artists'  suite  of 
rooms  with  Nitroni,  after  writing  the  prima- 
donna's  name  on  a  card  for  Mr.  Melrose  who 
was  already  thoughtfully  ascending  the  platform. 
Suddenly  a  stifled  groan  floated  in  from  every 
quarter  of  the  crowded  ballroom.  Then  inter- 
mittent applause  proclaimed  recognition  of  the 
great  financier — the  president  of  the  association 
giving  the  concert. 


152  MAMMY  ROSIE 

"Ladies  and  Gentlemen,"  his  voice  rang  clear 
throughout  the  house,  "it  is  my  unpleasant  duty 
to  announce  the  sudden  hoarseness  of  Madame 
Stella  and  her  consequent  inability  to  sing  for  us 
to-day." 

A  murmur  of  protest  interrupted  the  speaker. 
Raising  his  voice  he  continued : 

"A  note  informing  us  of  her  indisposition  has 
just  arrived ;  and  as  evidence  of  her  deep  regret 
and  good  will  she  has  most  generously  enclosed 
her  cheque  for  one  thousand  dollars — one  thou- 
sand dollars — to  swell  the  already  handsome  fund 
for  our  noble  charity." 

A  burst  of  applause  and  cries  of  "Brava  Stella 
— brava !"  gave  new  courage  to  the  speaker,  who 
continued  in  a  more  genial  tone : 

"I  trust  that  your  heartfelt  interest  in  this 
great  charity,  as  evinced  by  your  presence  here 
to-day,  will,  to  some  extent,  mitigate  the  keen 
disappointment  that  all  must  feel  in  not  hearing 
Madame  Stella's  phenomenal  and  beautiful  voice." 

Mr.  Melrose  paused.  Furious  applause  behind 
the  scenes  was  greeted  by  a  general  smile  in  the 
silent  ballroom. 

"The  Guardian  of  Good  Deeds  has,  however, 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF         153 

come  to  our  aid ;  for  a  young  compatriot,  fresh 
from  triumphs  in  the  leading  opera-houses  of 
Italy,  who  chanced  to  be  in  the  audience,  has 
generously  consented  to  help  us  out  of  our 
dilemma. 

''I  am  sure  you  will  all  be  happy  to  join  in  a 
rousing  welcome  at  this  impromptu  debut  for — 
Miss  VidalUr 


11. — The  Prima-Donna. 

''As  the  song  soared  passionately  upward 
and  fell  again  in  plaintive  cadence,  memory 
grew  tender  over  the  heart-tragedies  of  long 
ago;  lovers  of  to-day  were  transported 
heavenzmrd  in  sweetest  delirium;  and  un- 
spoken vows  trembled  on  lips  that  feared 
their  utterance.'' 


A  woman  of  infinite  charm  and  beauty  stepped 
into  the  frame  of  the  open  doorway  and  regarded 
them  wonderingly  with  great,  lustrous  eyes, 
whose  long  blue-black  lashes  and  finely  lined 
brows  intensified  the  warm  tint  of  a  fair,  healthy 


154  MAMMY  ROSIE 

complexion.  Her  glossy  hair  touched  a  broad, 
intellectual  brow  in  soft  wavelets  and  lay  in  heavy 
coils  on  her  neck  under  a  black  picture  hat  of 
clinging  ostrich  feathers.  Her  black  lace  gown 
of  exquisite  texture,  fashioned  simply,  completed 
a  picture  of  elegance  and  refinement. 

"]\Iiss  Vidalli/'  said  Mrs.  Melrose,  entering  the 
artist's  corner  to  make  the  introduction. 

The  girl,  for  she  was  still  in  the  early  twenties, 
stepped  forward  with  easy,  yet  formal  grace,  and 
gave  a  half-ceremonious  curtsey.  Lifting  her 
eyes,  she  met  Reginald  Thornton's  fixed  gaze 
with  an  almost  imperceptible  start.  It  was  lOf 
only  an  instant,  but  I\lrs.  Parkinson,  looking  from 
one  to  the  other,  suddenly  focussed  her  half-closed 
eyes  upon  ]\Ielrose,  who  was  descending  the 
steps. 

''My  dear,"  exclaimed  ]Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke, 
impulsively  approaching  the  young  stranger,  *'if 
God  has  accorded  you  other  gifts  the  equal  of 
these,"  extending  her  hand  cordially  and  regard- 
ing her  face  with  kindly  eyes,  ''you  need  fear  no 
rival !" 

i\Iiss  Mdalli's  gratified  smile  left  a  faint  flush 
on  her  soft  cheek,  as  she  silentlv  advanced  to 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF         155 

accompany  Mr.  Melrose  to  the  platform.  With 
the  promptness  of  the  schooled  artist,  she  turned 
before  the  palms  to  bow  her  acknowledgment  of 
the  hearty  applause  sent  after  her,  and  once  more 
smilingly  met  Reginald  Thornton's  questioning 
eyes. 

^'My  Gawd!"  ejaculated  Rosie  under  her 
breath,  in  instant  alarm.  A  dignified  image  of 
silent  woe,  she  heard  the  audience  catch  up  the 
plaudits  started  by  the  occupants  of  the  stage 
boxes  and  augment  them  until  the  house  fairly 
thundered  its  appreciation  of — beauty  and  an  en- 
thralling smile. 

*'You  two  have  met  before,"  said  Mrs.  Parkin- 
son, turning  sharply  to  Thornton. 

"Never,"  he  replied,  with  a  shake  of  the  head, 
"but  she  is  the  most  magnetic  creature  I  have 
ever  seen !" 

"Yes,"  retorted  Mrs.  Parkinson,  nodding  slyly, 
"and  Cupid  darted  down  a  ray  from  her  eye 
straight  into  yours ;  you  will  find  an  arrow  in 
your  heart — if  you  open  your  coat." 

"No  need  of  tliat,"  said  Thornton  carelessly. 

"Then  don't  let  Virginia  come  across  the 
arrow." 


156  MAMMY  ROSIE 

Rosie  could  have  strangled  the  woman  for  her 
impertinence,  though  she  heartily  agreed  with 
her ;  for,  she  claimed  for  herself  alone  the  right 
to  chide  the  young  master. 

The  first  notes  of  the  piano  penetrated  a  silence 
almost  painful  in  its  tensity.  With  the  exception 
of  Thornton,  the  members  of  the  group  behind 
the  scenes  had  seated  themselves  with  a  limpness 
that  expressed  the  full  agony  of  the  crucial 
moment,  whilst  he  slipped  into  the  palms  to 
breathlessly  scan  the  house. 

With  a  purity  of  intonation  that  betokened  the 
perfect  ear,  a  voice  of  mellow  and  bell-like 
resonance,  a  rare  instrument  in  itself,  recited  the 
theme  of  "Proch's  Variations." 

"The  stuff  great  artists  are  made  of — a 
musician-singer,"  loudly  proclaimed  ]\Irs.  Hamp- 
ton-Yorke,  as  she  called  attention  to  the  clear- 
ness of  enunciation  and  splendid  attack  of  the 
first  variation ;  for  with  the  jaded,  satiated  taste 
of  the  spoiled  worldling,  her  enthusiasm  de- 
manded instant  and  inexcusably  noisy  expression. 
*'Good  Heavens,  Rosie!  What  is  the  matter?" 
Rising  to  her  feet  with  the  other  ladies  who 
sought  points  of  view  in  the  folds  of  the  curtains. 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF         157 

as  spontaneous  applause  from  the  audience 
drowned  the  cadence  of  a  variation,  Mrs. 
Hampton- Yorke  approached  the  old  darkey,  who 
was  biting  convulsively  at  her  crumpled  handker- 
chief.   "Are  you  ill?" 

"No — Madam,"  replied  Rosie  with  spasmodic 
contortions  of  her  body.  'T  isn't  jes'  hea'd 
ncthin'  like  dat  befoh.  Et  kind  o'  tickles  my 
stummick,  I  guess.  Et 's  like  de  big  cage  in  de 
pahk  befoh  de  birds  gits  tired  in  de  mawnin',  an' 
all  ob  'em  singin'  to  oncet." 

Again  the  old  mammy  doubled  up  with  laugh- 
ter as  a  rain  of  crystalline  staccato  notes  threw 
the  great  .assemblage  into  uncontrollable  excite- 
ment. 

"A  great  artist!  The  legitimate  successor  of 
Stella!"  cried  Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke. 

Then  a  prolonged  trill,  begun  softly,  swelled 
until  its  glad  notes  raced  vibrantly  along  the 
frescoed  ceiling  as  if  seeking  an  outlet  to  Heaven 
itself. 

"F  in  altissimo,  surely,"  cried  Mrs.  Hampton- 
Yorke,  with  uplifted  hands,  as  if  trying  to  follow 
the  flight  of  the  very  high  note  which  the  singer 
had  struck  and  held  with  flute-like  purity." 


158  MAMMY  ROSIE 

"I  guess  de  larks  can't  git  no  higheh,  Madam,'* 
ventured  Rosie,  as  the  florid  vocalisation  ceased, 
and  the  great  audience  roared  brave  and  plaudits 
after  the  triumphant  singer. 

"Here,  Custy,"  cried  Thornton,  hurrying  to 
the  door,  ''bring  in  the  flowers." 

The  smiling-faced  captain  of  countless  and 
divers  superb  entertainments  darted  in,  his  arms 
brimming  over  with  exquisite  blossoms.  Behind 
him,  a  uniformed  "bell-hopper"  bore  a  superb 
bouquet  of  roses,  and,  balanced  high  on  one  hand, 
Rosie's  wonderful  flower  hat. 

"My  Lawd !"  cried  the  old  mammy.  "Is  n't 
dey  butes  !    Dey  suhtainly  is. 

"Heah!"  she  shouted,  running  madly  after  the 
bell-boy  upon  recognising  her  hat.  "Give  it  to 
me.    Dat  ain't  no  bo'quet !" 

"Have  you  done  a  stunt,  too?"  said  the  lad, 
with  an  impudent  leer. 

"No,  I  isn't!" 

"Then  what  are  you  throwin'  yourself  flowers 
for?" 

"Dat 's  my  hat!"  said  Rosie,  reaching  for  it. 

"Naw  it  ain't!"  drawled  the  boy,  holding  it 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF         159 

off  at  arm's-length.  "It 's  a  flower  umbrella  for 
the  singin'  lady !" 

'Ts  et  ?"  she  cried,  wrathfully  grasping  his  arm 
as  Custy,  admonished  by  Thornton,  hurried 
through  the  curtains  to  the  front  of  the  stage. 
*T  wish  I  had  a  cotton  umburell  to  lay  on  yoh !" 

For  lack  of  better  weapon  Rosie  administered 
a  convincing  pinch,  and  joyfully  recovered  the 
beloved  hat  as  the  astonished  boy  shot  through 
the  curtains,  glad,  indeed,  to  escape  with  the 
bouquet  and  his  life. 

Miss  Vidalli  was  still  on  the  stage,  curtseying 
low,  when  the  flowers  were  passed  up  to  her.  As 
she  returned  through  the  palms,  Thornton  was 
there  to  receive  her. 

"I  '11  keep  this  one,"  she  said  in  firm,  sweet 
tones,  retaining  the  roses  and  heaping  his  arms 
with  orchids  and  lilies  of  the  valley. 

Exclamations  of  gratitude  behind  the  scenes 
were  drowned  in  tempestuous  applause  from 
the  ballroom.  The  singer  gave  an  affirmative 
smile  and  Eckhoff  followed  her  back  to  the  stage. 
A  hush  fell  over  the  house  as  the  accompanist 
softly  preluded  in  skilful  modulations  from  the 
key  of  the   "Variations"   into  that   of   F   sharp 


i6o  MAMMY  ROSIE 

major,  ending  with  a  fragment  of  theme  from 
James  Rogers'  popular  song,  ''At  Parting." 

A  murmur  of  dehght  from  all  parts  of  the 
auditorium  blended  with  the  first  word  of  the 
lines : 

"The  sweetest  flower  that  blows, 

I  give  you  as  we  part, 
For  you  it  is  a  rose, 

For  me,  it  is  my  heart !" 

In  that  moment,  the  brilliant  coloratura  singer 
of  the  phenomenal  voice  was  forgotten :  Vidalli 
was  singing  straight  into  their  hearts  in  a  lan- 
guage and  accents  that  each  understood  and 
craved.  The  first  and  greatest  emotion  of  youth- 
ful days  revived  under  the  spell  of  the  inspired 
voice  and  brain :  memory  grew  tender  over  the 
heart  tragedies  of  long  ago ;  lovers  of  to-day 
were  transported  heavenward  in  sweetest  de- 
lirium ;  and  unspoken  vows  trembled  on  lips  that 
feared  their  utterance  as  the  song  soared  pas- 
sionately upward  and  fell  again  in  plaintive 
cadence : 

''The  fragrance  it  exhales 
Ah !  if  you  only  knew ! 

Which  but  in  dying  fails, 
It  is  my  love  for  you  \" 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF         i6t 

Behind  the  scenes  Thornton  alone  stood,  as 
in  a  dream,  his  head  bowed  over  the  flowers 
which  his  arms  still  encircled.  Mrs.  Parkinson 
distracted  him  with  a  motion  of  her  lorgnettes. 

'The  most  beautiful  voice  I  ever  heard,"  he 
murmured,  with  a  vague  smile,  as  he  seated  him- 
self on  one  of  the  steps  and  heard  the  last  impas- 
sioned utterances  of  the  great  singer  fade  into 
silence. 

"The  sweetest  flower  that  blows, 

I  give  you  as  we  part ; 
You  think  it  but  a  rose! 
Ah,  me !  it  is  my  heart !" 

The  spell  was  broken.  The  house  thundered 
its  appreciation,  and  Eckhoff  tripped  as  merrily 
down  the  steps  as  had  it  been  his  own  debut. 
Thornton  rose  hastily  and,  depositing  his  floral 
burden  on  the  artists'  table,  stood  expectantly  at 
the  foot  of  the  steps. 

Again  and  again  Vidalli  returned  to  acknowl- 
edge the  frantic  recalls,  until,  at  last,  flushed  and 
radiant,  she  emerged  from  the  palms. 

"Will  you  sing  that  again?"  said  Thornton 
huskily. 


i62  MAMMY  ROSIE 

Eckhoff  shook  his  head  at  her :  ''You  have  two 
more  numbers,  you  know." 

*1  will  give  you  a  rose,"  said  Miss  Vidalli 
impulsively,  stooping  to  loosen  a  half-blown  bud 
before  descending  the  steps. 

"They  want  you  again !"  called  Eckhoff. 

"One  more  bow  only,"  she  replied,  leaving 
Thornton  the  rose  and  the  recollection  of  an  en- 
trancing smile. 

Dick  Wynne  gave  ]\Irs.  Parkinson  a  wise  look. 

"He 's  hypnotised !"  declared  that  ever-ob- 
servant lady,  as  Thornton  bent  over  to  fasten  the 
bud  in  the  lapel  of  his  coat. 

"Hypnotised?"  repeated  Rosie  to  herself.  "]^Ir. 
Dick,"  she  inquired  softly,  "whut  does  dat  big 
wohd  mean?" 

"Conjured !"  replied  Dick  gaily,  never  dream- 
ing of  the  pain  his  answer  inflicted. 

"I  knowed  it!  I  knowed  it,  de  fust  time  she 
looked  at  'im!"  moaned  the  old  darkey  to  herself 
in  genuine  distress.  Even  her  beloved  Aliss 
Jinny's  sweet,  dignified  face  seemed  almost  plain 
by  comparison,  as  the  beautiful  singer  descended 
the  steps  to  hear  from  the  enthusiastic  committee 
their  first  expressions  of  eternal  gratitude. 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF  16^ 

"Thank  you,"  Miss  Vidalli  murmured,  allowing 
Thornton  to  take  her  heavy  bouquet. 

"Thank  you!"  he  replied  heartily.  "Thank 
you  for  saving  the  reputation  of  several  estimable 
ladies!'' 

The  ladies  laughed  joyously. 

"You  were  glorious!"  cried  Mrs.  Hampton- 
Yorke.  "Stella  would  have  croaked  out  anything 
could  she  have  foreseen!" 

"She'll  be  ill  over  it!"  declared  Mrs.  Parkin- 
son. 

"The  poor  dear!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Melrose. 
"She  was  so  generous,  too." 

"Oh,  I  hope  no  one  will  tell  her  what  a  triumph 
we  have  had  Vv^ithout  her,"  replied  Virginia 
sympathetically. 

"Trust  7ner  said  Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke,  with 

a  disparaging  gesture.     "I  '11  tell  her  we  played 

the  Dead  March  to  accompany  our  grief !    She  is 

a  noble  soul!    There  comes  di  Biancho.     I  must 

speak  with  him.    He  sings  for  me  Sunday  night." 

"Why  don't  you  engage  Miss  Vidalli,  also?" 

said  Thornton.     "She  would  create  a  sensation." 

"I'll  do  it!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke. 

"What   does   she   charge?"   she   added   in   an 


1 64  MAMMY  ROSIE 

aside  to  Eckhoff,  who  had  come  in  with  the 
pompous  tenor. 

''One  hundred  dollars." 

The  great  di  Biancho  reigned  one  brief  moment 
behind  the  scenes  and  then  Eckhoflf  took  him 
away  from  I\Irs.  Hampton- Yorke. 

When  the  wild  reception  had  died  down,  Miss 
A^idalli  turned  to  Thornton  with  a  soft  light  in 
her  beautiful  eyes :  ''Thank  you  for  your  sugges- 
tion to — that  lady." 

"Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke,"  said  Thornton,  sup- 
plying the  name. 

"Let  us  sit  here,"  he  added,  drawing  two  chairs 
to  one  side,  as  the  company  settled  itself  for  the 
enjoyment  of  di  Biancho's  superb  voice. 

"Quite  as  I  had  pictured  her,"  whispered  Miss 
Vidalli,  still  intent  upon  i\Irs.  Hampton-Yorke, 
"a  general  in  petticoats." 

"x\nd  that  lady  with — ]\Ir.  ]\Ielrose  ?"  she  con- 
tinued, with  a  peculiar  intonation  which  did  not 
escape  Thornton. 

"Mrs.  Francis  Parkinson." 

"You  don't  typify  her,"  he  observed,  after  a 
significant  pause. 

"Pointed  ears  and  a  fur  tail  would !" 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF         165 

"You  use  your  eyes  to  advantage." 
"Intuition/'  responded   Miss  Vidalli,   shaking 

her  head  and  ignoring  further  meaning  in  his 

remark. 

"What  does  your  intuition  say  of  me?" 

"I  feel  as  if  I  had  known  you  always/'  she  said 

with  the  artlessness  of  a  child,  and  yet—"    Her 

startled  look  changed  to  one  of  deep  scrutiny. 

"I  don't  even  know  who  you  are." 
"Reginald  Thornton,  is  my  name." 
"The  famous  leader  of  cotillions  ?" 
"To  think  of  being  labelled  thus  for  Eternity !" 
"You  are  a  very  exalted  personage— to  us  who 

have  viewed  society  through  knot  holes  in  the 

back  fence." 

"To  you?    You  are  scoffing!     Let  us  talk  of 
the  green  fields  and  the  woods." 

"Gladly ;  I  was  born  in  underbrush." 

"You?" 

"Literally.    That  is  why  I  am  so  strong." 

"Where  was  that  sacred  spot?" 

"Ohio." 

"But  you  came  out  of  the  underbrush  ?" 
"Yes,  for  some  finishing  touches  at  a  Methodist 
seminary/' 


i66  MAMMY  ROSIE 

"Well,  by  Jove!  If  they  are  all  like  you,  I 
should  prefer  living  in  a  ]\Iethodist  seminary  in 
Ohio." 

"You  would  n't  like  it.  They  give  corn-meal 
mush  and  apple-butter  for  breakfast;  and  then, 
upon  leaving  there,  your  accent  would  have  to 
undergo  a  surgical  operation." 

"Did  yours  ?" 

"Alany ;  and  they  did  n't  cure  it.  Nothing  but 
death  could!" 

"And  you  have  only  just  begun  to  live!"  said 
Thornton,  half  quizzically. 

"To-day !"  she  said  quite  simply,  as  she  turned 
from  his  gaze  to  hearken  for  an  instant  to  di 
Biancho. 

"And  I,  too,"  he  responded  softly,  reclaiming 
her  attention.  "Your  voice  revealed  a  new  world 
to  me ;  or  else,  I  never  before  had  a  good  square 
look  at  this  old  one  of  ours  !" 

"You  love  music." 

"I  don't  know  zi'hat  it  is — I  love.  You  recall 
to  my  mind  Mrs.  Hampton- Yorke's  dissertation 
on  love." 

"Is  n't  she  through  with  that  ?" 

Miss  Vidalli  smiled  involuntarily  as  she  gave  a 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF         167 

surreptitious  glance  at  the  majestic,  self-sufficient 
matron. 

*'No,"  replied  Thornton,  "for  she  said  to  me 
herself,  Tt  is  love  which  we  love!  We  find  an 
individual  whom  our  mantle  of  love  best  fits,  in- 
vest him  with  it  and  immediately  begin  adoration 
of  that  individual.  I  '11  frankly  admit,  as  old  as 
I  am,  I  love  love !'  " 

"May  be  I  love  music  that  way,"  he  added, 
after  a  slight  pause. 

"I  don't,"  said  Miss  VidalU  hastily. 

"It  is  well  you  do  not.  The  beautiful  Narcissus 
died  of  longing  in  contemplating  his  own  reflec- 
tion. You  might  die  of  joy  in  listening  to  your 
own  voice." 

"I  should  be  resigned  to  doing  that  in  my 
prime,  if  I  could  become  the  greatest  of  all  sing- 
ers. My  art  is  dearer  to  me  than  life  and  all  else 
which  it  contains !" 

"You  are  young,"  sagely  observed  Thornton. 
"None  the  less,  you  must  be  lonely  at  times." 

"Only  when  in  need  of  human  sympathy." 

"Do  you  need  any  now  ?" 

"Yes." 


i68  MAMMY  ROSIE 

"Then  I  hope  you  will  need  it  for  long,"  he 
said,  promptly  extending  his  hand. 

''How  cruel !''  she  said,  accepting  it,  then 
dropping  it  quickly  with  a  swift  side  glance  to 
note  that  they  were  unobserved. 

"Only  selfish!  I  shouldn't  like  to  see  you  sit 
alone  with  your  art  on  a  pinnacle." 

"Why  not?" 

"I  might  be  conventional  and  say,  I  should 
be  sorry  to  see  you  so  lonely.  Truth  is — I  should 
want  to  wring  Art's  neck;  pitch  him  down  the 
hill  and  sit  with  you,  myself." 

"  'And  sit  with  you,  myself,'  "  repeated  Mrs. 
Parkinson,  stopping  before  them  as  the  last  note 
of  the  song  died  in  a  roar  of  delight  from  the 
audience,  and  the  m.atrons  rose  to  receive  the 
popular  tenor.  ''You  have  done  too  much  of  that 
already,  Reginald  Thornton.  He  is  so  spoiled, 
Miss  Vidalli !    It  is  our  turn  now." 

"You  are  a  stranger  and  should  know  the 
women  first,  anyvvay,"  she  continued  in  a  banter- 
ing tone.     "Our  men  are  so  compromising !" 

"Men  are  always  what  women  make  them!" 
retorted  Thornton. 

"I  decline  to  admit  that  of  New  York  men. 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF  169 

Wall  Street  makes  and  ritijis  them!  Heaven 
only  knows  what  they  do  outside !  We  can't  get 
them  for  luncheon,  but  at  dinner — they  are  heavy 
and  preoccupied  or  openly  discussing  stocks  and 
bonds ;  and  there  is  no  escape  for  us  before 
coffee.  If  there  happen  to  be  an  agreeable  for- 
eigner present  who  has  time  and  mind  for  us, 
they  fly  into  a  rage  and  blackguard  him — and  us ! 
Do  you  think  that  we  are  absorbed  in  our 
women's  luncheons  and  women's  "Bridge"  par- 
ties ?  Not  a  bit  of  it !  Don't  you  think  us  fright- 
fully misunderstood  and  abused  ?" 

"I  know  so  little  of  Nevv^  York,"  said  Miss 
Vidalli. 

"It  is  there  in  a  nutshell!"  declared  Mrs. 
Parkinson,  indicating  the  audience,  which  was 
then  frantically  acknowledging  Nitroni's  gener- 
osity in  returning  to  sing  again. 

"In  boxes  you  mean,"  said  Thornton. 

Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke  joined  the  group  to  ob- 
serve grimly:  "Yes,  and  none  of  their  grand- 
fathers sat  in  them !" 

"I  am  curious  to  know  who  one  woman  is," 
declared  Miss  Vidalli,  with  sudden  animation, 
receding  a  step  to  see  over  the  tops  of  the  palms. 


I70  MAMMY  ROSIE 

'There  she  is !  I  actually  had  to  hurl  all  my  top 
notes  at  her  to  stop  her  chatter." 

"Mrs.  Jerome  IMason,"  said  Thornton  and  Mrs. 
Parkinson  in  a  breath. 

"We  could  have  answered  that  without  look- 
ing," continued  the  latter  with  a  laugh. 

"What  have  they  got  her  in?"  inquired  ]\Irs. 
Hampton-Yorke  dryly.     "A  coop?" 

"She  has  the  noisiest  box  at  the  opera,"  sighed 
Mrs.  Parkinson,  "and — next — to — mine!" 

"Oh,  her  fame  has  reached  farther,"  Miss 
Vidalli  observed.  "It  has  gone  beyond  Broad- 
way.   Who  was  she  by  birth?" 

"An  Allison,"  responded  ]\Irs.  Hampton-Yorke 
sharply.  "Western  people — rich  as  mud — came 
here  and  poisoned  four  of  the  best  families  in. 
New  York!" 

"Imbecility !"  whispered  Thornton,  tapping  his 
forehead  as  the  chairman  of  the  concert  com- 
mittee drew  I\Iiss  Mdalli  aside  to  say  confiden- 
tially :  "I  hope  you  won't  mind  my  talking  biisi- 
nessr 

"Certainly  not." 

"Eckhoff  told  me  your  terms  for  singing.  You 
must  permit  us  to  double  that  amount  to-day  as 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF         1 7 1 

a  preliminary  expression  of  gratitude  for  your 
magnificent  assistance :  and  I  should  feel  hon- 
oured to  have  you  sing  professionally  for  me  on 
Sunday  evening  at  ten  o'clock.  Come  lunch  with 
me  to-morrow,  quite  alone,  at  half-past  one  and 
talk  it  over."  Mrs.  Hampton- Yorke  supplied  her 
with  a  visiting-card  and  extended  her  hand  in 
farewell.  "Thanks  to  you,  we  have  succeeded 
beyond  anything  we  could  have  planned.  Now, 
I  shall  return  to  my  box  and  gloat  over  the  sen- 
sation you  have  created." 

"Come  with  me,  Anna,"  she  called  to  Mrs. 
Parkinson. 

"Oh,  thank  you,  my  dear.  I  think  I  will  re- 
main here.  It  is  so  hard  getting  through  the 
crowd." 

"Humph!"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke, 
indulging  in  a  bad  habit  of  talking  to  herself 
within  Rosie's  hearing.  "Afraid  to  leave  Melrose 
with  Vidalli!" 

"I  have  two  extra  places.  Won't  you  come 
with  me  ?"  she  inquired  of  Mrs.  Melrose. 

"Thanks.  It  is  so  warm  in  the  boxes.  I  think 
I  will  remain  here." 


172  MAMMY  ROSIE 

"Afraid  to  leave  Hugh  with  Anna  Parkinson !" 
muttered  Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke. 

"Well,  Virginia  will  accompany  me.  Won't 
you,  dear?"  she  said  aloud. 

"Thank  you  so  much,  dear  Mrs.  Hampton- 
Yorke.  I  have  a  slight  headache ;  and — it  is  so 
much  cooler  here." 

"Afraid  to  leave  Reg  with  Miss  Vidalli,"  sighed 
Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke.  "Rosie,  look  me  over. 
Is  there  anything  wrong  widi  my  bonnet  or 
gown  ?" 

"Oh,  no.  Madam !    You  look  grand !" 

"I  suppose  that  is  why  I  can't  get  a  woman  to 
go  with  me." 

Turning  to  Dick  Wynne,  she  eyed  him  calmly. 
"Your  work  is  over.    Come  sit  with  me  awhile." 

"Thank  you !  I  would  n't  dare.  I  have  to 
oversee  the  ushers,  you  know !" 

"Afraid  to  leave  Virginia  vrith  Reg,"  muttered 
]\Irs.  Hampton-Yorke,  more  amused  than  piqued. 
"Humph!  I  have  paddled  my  own  canoe  alone 
for  over  twenty  years  !  I  can  do  so,  still !  Good- 
bye, Rosie !" 

With  her  head  thrown  proudly  back,  looking 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF         173 

neither  right  nor  left,  she  sailed  grandly  out  the 
open  doorway  and  down  the  corridor. 

'The  others  have  nothing  to  keep  them," 
Thornton  observed  significantly  to  Miss  Vidalli ; 
''only  Mr.  Melrose  imagines  he  must  lead  you  on 
each  time." 

"Once  is  enough  by  way  of  introduction,"  she 
replied;  and  turning  to  the  great  financier,  'T 
should  like  to  sing  your  favourite  aria  for  you !" 

"Your  choice  would  be  my  favourite,"  was  the 
gallant  reply. 

"You  must  have  a  preference." 

"Only  to  hear  you !" 

"Then  my  next  number  shall  be  specially  for 
you.    When  I  look  up— where  is  your  box?" 

"Number  five.  Above  us— just  the  other  side 
of  that  pillar." 

"When  I  look  up  it  will  be  to  thank  you  again 
for  the  memorable  honour  you  have  done  me  in 
introducing  me  to  the  American  public.  I  shall 
now  go  to  the  artists'  room  for  a  moment's  repose 
before  my  next  number." 

Miss  Vidalli  extended  her  hand  with  an  "au 
revoir"  and  started  toward  the  door. 

"Come,  my  dear,"  said  Melrose,  approaching 


174  MAMMY  ROSIE 

his  wife,  "Miss  Vidalli  wishes  to  rest.    We  will 
go  to  the  box." 

Mrs.  Melrose  stopped  to  express  gratitude  for 
the  singer's  timely  and  victorious  help,  and  she 
was  inviting  her  to  luncheon  and  the  opera 
matinee  the  following  Saturday  when  Virginia 
joined  them. 

"I  think.  Aunt  Annie,  if  Miss  Vidalli  is  not 
engaged  next  Tuesday  afternoon,  it  would  be 
delightful  if  she  would  come  in  and  sing — pro- 
fessionally, of  course." 

"It  is  our  day  at  home,"  she  explained,  upon 
receiving  assurance  that  Miss  Vidalli  would  be 
happy  to  come,  "and  we  will  make  a  point  of  ask- 
ing people  in.  Now,  if  you  will  kindly  give  me 
your  address,  I  will  call  to  see  you  before  then." 

"Maison  Leroux,"  said  Miss  Vidalli.  "I  don't 
recall  the  number:  but  it  is  Thirty-fifth  Street, 
just  east  of  Sixth  Avenue. 

Mrs.  Parkinson,  seeing  the  movement  to  depart 
and  having  no  longer  any  one  to  watch  there, 
came  forward  with  protestations  of  undying 
gratitude,  and  invited  Miss  Vidalli  to  drive  with 
her  the  following  afternoon  at  four.  "A 
brougham,  of  course,  my  dear !    I  would  n't  risk 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF  175 

that  golden  voice  of  yours  in  an  open  vehicle." 

"Look!"  exclaimed  Dick  Wynne,  calling  Vir- 
ginia's attention  to  a  stage  box  opposite  them. 
"Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke  is  beckoning  to  us." 

"She  can  see  this  whole  corner  from  her  box," 
observed  Miss  Melrose,  as  she  returned  an  affirm- 
ative signal. 

"Shall  we  join  her?"  inquired  Dick  eagerly. 

"Yes— for  a  little  while !" 

And  Dick  knew  that  she  was  thinking  of 
Thornton  and  the  fascinating  young  singer, 
though  she  only  half  turned  without  seeming  to 
regard  them. 


TIL — The  Red  Screen. 

"Go  'long.  Go  'long,"  cried  the  excited 
old  mammy,  striking  furiously  at  the  valet 
and  dancing  a  species  of  hornpipe  in  a 
frantic  attempt  to  put  the  greatest  possible 
distance  hetzveen  herself  and  the  yotmg 
couple   as   they   emerged  from    behind   the 


176  MAMMY  ROSIE 

''Dear  old  Rosie/'  said  Thornton  tenderly; 
"she's  so  happy  to-day!  It  is  a  new  ex- 
perience for  her." 

"O,  de  Dehbiir  moaned  the  old  darkey 
breathlessly. 


"I  think,"  said  the  prima-donna,  taking  a  smil- 
ing survey  of  the  artists'  corner,  now  deserted 
save  for  their  two  selves  and  the  servants,  "I 
might  rest  here  just  as  well  as  in  the  other  room, 
if  that  screen  were  placed  there  to  shut  off  the 
draught." 

''It  is  done,"  replied  the  amateur  impresario, 
removing  an  embossed  leather  art  work  in  panels 
which,  when  discreetly  curved  about  her  chair 
just  off  the  flight  of  steps,  completely  hid  i\Iiss 
Vidalli  from  the  boxes  and,  also,  from  the  door- 
way. 

A  round  of  applause  v/ithout  was  signal  for 
Eckhoff's  reappearance  and  hasty  retreat  to  the 
artists'  rooms,  from  whence  he  returned  with  the 
violinist  just  as  Nitroni  made  his  final  bow  and 
strode  dramatically  past  them  to  his  room  in  the 
transverse  corridor. 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF         177 

The  violin  was  throbbing  out  Svendsen's  ex- 
quisite "Romance,"  as  Thornton  walked  confi- 
dently around  the  edge  of  the  screen  and  placing 
a  second  chair  there,  seated  himself  next  to  Miss 
Vidalli.  There  was  no  surprise  in  her  eloquent 
eyes  as  they  rested  on  his  happy  face. 
They  had  understood  each  other  like  two  old 
comrades  and  fell  as  naturally  into  conversation. 

"You  are,  indeed,  champion  to-day,"  began 
Thornton,  with  a  congratulatory  hand  pressure. 

"Do  you  know  how  many  times  you  have  wrung 
my  hand  to-day  ?"  said  Miss  Vidalli,  withdrawing 
it  hastily. 

"Certainly !    Not  half  enough !" 

"You  have  the  touch  of  a  virtuoso." 

"No!  Upon  my  honour,  no!  It's  a  natural 
gift !    Just  see !" 

"Your  dexterity  is  phenomenal  in  a  novice," 
laughed  Miss  Vidalli,  releasing  her  hand  again 
and  moving  her  chair  back. 

"Oh,  don't!"  said  Thornton,  in  an  aggrieved 
tone.  "Do  you  know,  if  I  were  rich,  I  would 
found  a  Methodist  seminary !" 

"Wreck  it,  you  mean  I" 


178  MAMMY  ROSIE 

''Greater  New  York  can't  turn  out  a  composite 
girl  your  equal." 

"I  am  not  familiar  with  the  metropolitan 
product." 

"Then  God  spare  you  a  closer  acquaintance !" 

'Y^ou  disparage  them." 

"Oh,  no ;   they  have  simply  ceased  to  exist !" 

''Since  when?" 

Thornton  looked  at  his  watch.  '"Since  about 
twenty  minutes  past  four  to-day !" 

"Oh,  you  society  men !"  Miss  Vidalli  eyed  him 
sharply.  "I  wonder  if  your  own  mothers  know 
when  you  are  sincere !" 

"They  don't  chaperon  us." 

"I  see,"  exclaimed  ]^liss  Vidalli,  glancing  at 
Rosie,  "a  body-guard  is  more  essential.  What 
a  commentary  on  New  York  society !" 

''Body-guard?     Rosie?" 

"Is  the  'razzor'  her  weapon  of  protection?" 

"No ;  her  tongue." 

"Then  woe  is  me.  I  see  murderous  intent  in 
those  porcelain  orbs !" 

Unnoticed  by  Thornton,  Rosie  had  been  stand- 
ing where  she  could  watch  them — a  threatening 
figure  of  \^engeance.     Upon  seeing  herself  ob- 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF         179 

served,  she  lowered  her  eyes  and,  assuming  an 
air  of  indifference,  moved  discreetly  away.  That 
step  was  an  inspiration ;  for  the  rear  side  of  the 
screen  seemxcd  beckoning — almost  imploring  her 
to  come  and  listen — and — yes,  look,  too!  Little 
rays  of  light  pierced  the  joints  between  the 
panels,  and  at  one  of  them  she  planted  herself 
wiUi  bowed  head  and  attentive  ear  as  Thornton 
v^as  saying:   "She  is  devoted  to  my  friends." 

Miss  Vidalli  seemed  skeptical,  for  she 
answered  :  "Nevertheless  she  and  Stella  will  keep 
me  alert." 

Thornton  said  simply :   "Why  Stella  ?" 

"How  little  you  laymen  know  of  my  world! 
Intrigue — you  would  call  it  business — is  the  lad- 
der upon  which  many  climb  to  fame." 

"Stella  does  not  impress  me  as  being  that  sort." 

"The  greatest  in  art  show  greatest  skill  in 
appropriating  the  honours  and  perquisites  due 
their  rank ;   and  none  conceal  it  so  well." 

"How  could  Stella  hurt  you  ?" 

"Not  necessarily  hurt — delay  my  career  here 
by  putting  a  ban  on  me  at  the  opera  and  in  pri- 
vate houses.  The  way  to  success  in  New  York 
is  through  a  certain  few  doors." 


i8o  MAMMY  ROSIE 

''Some  of  them  have  already  extended  to  you  a 
warm  reception;  and  they — are  your  grateful 
debtors r 

"Gratitude  is  a  bubble !'' 

"Friendship  is  not." 

"Time  only  proves  that." 

"Time  ?  How  much  time,  then,  do  you  give  me 
before  you  dine  to-night?" 

"We  dine  at  seven." 

"We!"  exclaimed  Thornton  almost  reproach- 
fully.   "Who  are  zver 

"My  stepfather  and  I." 

"Oh!"  he  responded,  with  an  audible  sigh  of 
reUef.    "How  many  sit  at  your  table?" 

"Two." 

"How  many  will  it  hold  ?" 

"Three." 

"Are  outsiders  admitted?" 

"When  introduced  by  pensionnuires" 

"T'll  be  there  to-night!" 

"Oh,  my  Lawd!"  muttered  Rosie,  springing 
up  and  down  and  wringing  her  hands  in  despair. 
"To-night !  Poh  Miss  Jinny !  Poh  Miss  Jinny ! 
My  Gawd,  whut  shall  I  do?" 

Silence    behind    the    screen    admoniched    the 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF         i8i 

guilty  eavesdropper  to  step  aside  and  apply  her 
eye  to  another  crack  between  the  panels.  '*Mr. 
Rainey,  my  stepfather,  will  be  pleased — if  he 
happen  to  be  sober!"  Miss  Vidalli  paused  again, 
and  Rosie  affrightedly  receded  behind  a  panel 
and  held  her  breath  until  a  resumption  of  the 
conversation  gave  her  courage  slowly  and  noise- 
lessly to  seek  out  a  new  peep  hole.  "The 
family  skeleton  is  less  shocking,  if  one  first  hear 
it  rattle!" 

"I  am  so  sorry !"  said  Thornton,  bending  sym- 
pathetically near. 

"My  Lawd  !  My  Lawd !"  moaned  Rosie,  turn- 
ing an  agonised  face  toward  the  palms  and  lifting 
her  trembling  hands. 

"You  are  what  Italians  call  sympatico,"  mur- 
mured Miss  Vidalli  in  her  soft,  alluring  voice. 

"I  wish  you  would  confide  in  me,"  said  Thorn- 
ton, dropping  his  half-bantering  manner  and  re- 
garding her  seriously.  "New  York  owes  me 
something  for  leading  its  stupid  cotillions  through 
eight  precious  years.  You  shall  reap  the  harvest 
— if  you  will !" 

His  look,  his  manner,  his  tender  appealing 
words,  "if  you  will,"  were  too  much  for  Rosie. 


i82  MAMMY  ROSIE 

"j\Iy  Gawd!  My  Gawd!"  she  cried,  clapping 
her  hands  over  her  ears  and  pacing  dejectedly  up 
and  down.  ''De  rascal !  De  villain !  De  fool ! 
I 's  'shamed  ob  yoh !  A-cuttin'  yoh  own  froat ! 
Ef  Miss  Jinny  knowed  whut  'e  wuz  up  to  now! 
Umph!" 

''Come  'way!"  whispered  Fritz  peremptorily. 
"Come  'way!  Ze  people  in  ze  logcs  laff  over 
you." 

''Well — whut  ef  dey  does  !  Dey  can't  see  me  \" 
retorted  Rosie,  looking  at  the  ceiling  above  her. 
"Go  'long!"  With  an  angry  gesture  she  turned 
her  back  on  the  meddlesome  boy  and  resumed  her 
vigil  as  Miss  Vidalli  began  to  speak  softly : 

"When  my  father's  death,  eight  years  ago,  left 
us  homeless,  penniless  and  kinless,  my  mother 
and  I  came  to  New  York,  trusting  to  my  voice 
for  support.  Starvation  began.  Then  my  mother 
secured  a  secretaryship  ;  and  I  addressed  business 
envelopes  and  newspaper  wrappers  in  a  Four- 
teenth Street  office  at — four  dollars  per  zi'cekT 

'An'  dat  wuz  fouh  dollahs  too  much,  de 
huzzy!"  interposed  Rosie,  grimacing  and  shaking 
both  fists  threateningly. 

"On   Sundays   I   sang  in  a   Methodist  choir. 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF  183 

My  mother's  remarriage  and  Eckhoff's  offer  of 
gratuitous  instruction  changed  our  luck ;  and, 
three  years  later,  Mr.  Rainey  sent  me  to  Italy  to 
prepare  for  opera.  After  two  years  there,  I  made 
a  brilliant  debut  in  'Traviata.'  Suddenly  one 
night,  after  I  had  drawn  crowded  houses,  the 
manager  himself  had  me  hissed.  Another 
debutante  wanted  my  place.  She  had  backing  and 
offered  to  pay  handsomely  for  her  appearances; 
and  the  manager  needed  money:  for  those  pro- 
vincial theatres  are  always  on  the  verge  of  finan- 
cial collapse  and  resort  to  every  means  to  keep 
going. 

"This  series  of  misfortunes  proved  disastrous 
in  every  way.  Mr.  Rainey  became  discouraged, 
lost  his  money,  and  much  of  his  ambition.  Once 
an  editor  of  repute,  he  is  now  a  reporter  on  an 
evening  paper.    He  can  do  nothing  for  me. 

'Well,  to  continue — I  risked  my  last  dollar  to 
buy  appearances  for  the  remainder  of  that  season. 
Successes  in  new  roles  brought  fame  and  offers 
from  better  opera-houses.  I  accepted  the  best  for 
the  following  season.  Toward  the  end  of  Novem- 
ber, I  decided,  after  an  unpleasant  experience  with 
the  manager,  to  return  home  and  earn  the  means 


i84  MAMMY  ROSIE 

to  pursue  my  career  unmolested  by  such  beasts. 
I  arrived  here  a  week  ago  encumbered  by  a  (M- 
collete  bodice,  which  makes  of  this  an  evening 
gown,  and  a  simple  blue  serge  dress.  All  I  pos- 
sess would  barely  fill  a  suit  case." 

Miss  Vidalli  flushed  slightly  and  stopped  in 
momentary  confusion. 

"Go  on,"  said  Thornton  gently. 

"I  need  another  two  years  of  experience  before 
I  can  command  leading  positions,"  she  went  on 
as  if  she  had  not  told  all  the  subject  demanded. 
"Deprivation  does  not  develop  voices.  I  need 
both  physical  and  mental  comfort ;  a  chaperon ; 
and  at  least  the  appearance  of  opulence  in  order 
to  enforce  contracts." 

"To-day's  victory  insures  all  that." 

Miss  Vidalli  shook  her  head. 

"What  have  you  to  fear?"  Thornton  inquired. 

"The  waning  interest  of  friends." 

"We  will  keep  it  active." 

"And  Stella's  influence." 

"Trust  me  to  counteract  that!"  Thornton's 
soul  was  in  his  eyes  and  drew  her  into  its  mag- 
netic embrace.    She  strove  to  speak  and — put  out 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF  185 

licr  hand.  Tenderly,  deferentially,  he  raised  it  to 
his  lips. 

*T  must  not  talk  any  more,"  said  Miss  Vidalli, 
rising  hastily  to  her  feet.  'T  must  save  myself 
for  my  next  number !" 

''Come  'way !  Come  'way !"  Fritz  was  even 
then  calling  as  he  caught  Rosie  by  the  arm.  "Ze 
people  bust  wid  laff !" 

"Go  'long!  Go  'long!"  cried  the  excited  old 
mammy,  striking  furiously  at  the  valet  and  danc- 
ing a  species  of  hornpipe  in  a  frantic  attempt  to 
put  the  greatest  possible  distance  between  herself 
and  the  young  couple  as  they  emerged  from  be- 
hind the  screen. 

They  found  her  half  concealed  by  the  plush 
curtains,  apparently  watching  the  audience. 

"Dear  old  Rosie!"  said  Thornton  tenderly. 
"She  is  so  happy  to-day.  It  is  a  new  experience 
for  her." 

"Oh,  de  Debbil!"  moaned  the  old  darkey 
breathlessly. 

Fritz  turned  away  to  hide  a  broad  grin ;  and 
Rosie,  with  closed  eyes,  tried  to  still  her  heart- 
hammerings  before  resuming  her  prayers  to 
Heaven  for  the  salvation  of  "de  young  masteh," 


1 86  MAMMY  ROSIE 

and  her  appeals  to  the  Devil  for  the  frustration  of 
the  singing-sorceress. 

"Poh  ]\Ii5S  Jinny !"  she  wailed,  as  the  youthful 
Lucille  bowed  her  acknowledgments  to  the  audi- 
ence and  almost  jumped  out  of  the  palms  in  her 
eagerness  to  secure  an  encore.  "Et  's  Gawd's 
own  mercy  whut  tuk  'er  'way  whur  she  could  n't 
see  dem  two  debbils  a-kissin'  an'  a-makin'  lub. 
Et  '11  break  'er  heart !  Oh,  et  's  turrible — 
turribler 

"Leastways,"  she  added,  much  calmed  by  the 
reflection,  ''et  will  be  fur  him  when  I  gits  'im 
home  alone.  De  debbil !  De  rascal!  De  villain! 
De  men  beasts  whut  dey  is !  Dey  's  all  alike ! 
De  Debbil  take  'em !" 

''Rosie!" 

''Yes,  dahlin' !"  replied  the  old  mammy,  wheel- 
ing about  vrith  a  sudden  reaction  in  feeling  and 
expression. 

"Aliss  Brandon  will  be  down  in  a  moment. 
Have  her  wrap  ready." 

The  kindliness  in  his  voice  was  irresistible,  and 
the  sight  of  his  calm  face  so  comforting  that 
Rosie  began  to  doubt  the  evidence  of  her  own 
senses,   especially  as  Fritz  was  the  only  other 


ROSIE  AT  THE  WALDORF  187 

person  visible.  Could  she  have  been  dreaming, 
she  asked  herself — a  dark  revolting  dream? 
Rosie  actually  rubbed  her  eyes  and  gazed  again 
long  and  hard  at  the  screen  before  venturing  to 
step  nearer  and  look  behind  it.  That  look  was 
enough  to  dissipate  doubt  and  restore  her  to  a 
clear  comprehension  of  painful  facts :  for,  beau- 
tiful as  the  traditional  sorceress,  there  sat  the 
singer  returning  her  curious  stare  with  a  smiling 
glance  of  inquiry. 

Rosie  caught  her  breath,  faltered  without  dar- 
ing to  respond,  and  then,  deaf  and  blind  to  evil 
signs,  resumed  her  dignified  pose  by  the  door. 
Yet,  when  she  stepped  forward  to  cover  the 
youthful  Lucille's  mature  shoulders,  Thornton 
noted  in  silent  amusement  that  the  index  and 
middle  fingers  of  each  hand  were  tightly  locked. 

The  young  prima-donna  stood  waiting  to 
ascend  the  steps. 

"What  will  you  sing?"  inquired  Eckhoff. 

"The  'Traviata'  aria." 

"Ah!  forse  lui?" 

Miss  Vidalli  nodded,  and  with  a  strange,  almost 
shy  glance  at  Thornton,  started  up  the  steps. 

"I  have  to  play  everything  from  memory  to- 


i88  MAMMY  ROSIE 

day  for  her — you  know,"  said  Eckhoff  with  a 
shrug,  ''and  there  is  a  hmit  to  my  repertoire." 

Thornton  smiled  absent-mindedly,  and  stepping" 
aside  out  of  the  range  of  the  boxes,  placed  his 
fingers  under  the  lapel  of  his  coat  and  drew  the 
half-blown  rose  caressingly  to  his  cheek. 

As  Rosie  watched  with  her  very  soul  in  her 
eyes,  she  heard  him  softly  repeat : 

"You  think  it  but  a  rose, 
Ah,  me!    it  is  my  heart!" 


CHAPTER  IX. 

ROSIE  GETS   INTO  PRINT. 


"What  have  youf  he  inquired  mockingly. 
"Katzen  jammer?" 

"No,  dat  ain't  de  name"  replied  Rosie,  in  a 
suffering  voice,  as  she  slipped  from  her  lap  a 
weekly  journal  and  extended  it  without  raising 
her  head. 
********* 

"The  Social  Shotgun,"  read  Fritz  laboriously. 

"Dey's   done   published   me!"   cried   the   old 
black  mammy  hoarsely;   and  sitting  upright,  she 
displayed  a  countenance  besmeared  with  tears. 
********* 

/  's  disgraced  'im !"  cried  Rosie,  limp  with  con- 
trition. "An  I  lubs  'im  like  'e  wuz  my  own 
baby,  too.  .  .  .  'E  cussed  dat  papeh  up 
Washington  Monument  an'  down  ag'in.     'Deed 

'e  did  I    An'  I  helped  'im,  too to  myself;  fur 

et  's  turrible  to  be  published,  Fritz — turrible  dis- 
graceful!" 


189 


CHAPTER  IX. 

ROSIE   GETS   INTO   PRINT. 

The  peak  of  Rosie's  bandana  pointed  down- 
ward. Bowed  low  over  her  knees  her  head 
swayed  de j  ectedly  to  and  fro  to  the  rhythm  of  her 
plaintive  moan:  "Uh — huh!  Uh — huh!  Uh — 
huh  r 

Fritz  stared  in  uneasy  amazement  at  the  un- 
canny figure  in  the  dimly  lighted  kitchen,  as  the 
elevator  door  closed  behind  him. 

''Good-day,"  he  ventured  timidly,  after  he  had 
assured  himself  that  it  was  indeed  Rosie,  alive 
but  apparently  in  an  agony  of  desolation. 
"What  have  you?" 

Rosie  started  as  if  electrified,  then  slowly 
turned  her  head  for  a  sidewise  look  and,  convinced 
that  it  was  no  evil  visitant,  she  resumed  her  dole- 
ful refrain :  "Uh— huh!  Uh— huh!  Uh— huh!" 
191 


192  MAMMY  ROSIE 

One  look  at  the  empty  champagne  bottles  and 
unwashed  kitchen  utensils  littering  the  room 
brought  a  mischievous  grin  to  the  valet's  boyish 
face.  ''What  have  you?"  he  repeated  mockingly. 
''Katzenjammer  ?" 

*'No,  dat  ain't  de  name,"  replied  Rosie  in  a 
suffering  voice,  as  she  slipped  from  her  lap  a 
weekly  journal  and  extended  it  without  raising 
her  head.    "Here  't  is." 

"The  Social  Shotgun,"  read  Fritz  laboriously. 

*'Dey  's  done  published  me !"  cried  the  old  black 
mammy  hoarsely;  and  sitting  upright,  she  dis- 
played a  countenance  besmeared  with  tears. 

''Where  is  it  ?"  inquired  Fritz  eagerly.  "I  can't 
read  English  good." 

"Neveh  mind !  Et  's  all  'bout  my  peekin'  frew 
de  cracks  in  dat  debhil-screen  at  dat  debbil-con- 
cert  fur  dem  debbil-boys!  An'  de  nobility  in  de 
boxes,  de  uddeh  side  ob  de  stage,  wuz  bustin' 
cawset-strings  a-wonderin'  whut  de  young  mas- 
teh  an'  de  singin -debbil  wuz  doin'  behine  et  when 
I  danced  excited-like,  an'  shuk  my  fists. 

"I 's  disgraced  'im !"  cried  Rosie,  limp  with 
contrition.  "An'  I  lubs  'im  like  'e  wuz  my  own 
baby,  tool- 


ROSIE  GETS  INTO  PRINT  193 

"De  wust  ob  et  wuz,"  continued  the  penitent 
old  darkey  after  a  pause  which  Fritz  had  devoted 
assiduously  and  vainly  to  a  search  for  the  offend- 
ingf  article,  "de  young  masteh  did  n't  know 
nothin'  'bout  et  tell  'e  read  et  in  de  papeh  at 
breakfus'  dis  mawnin' ;  an'  den  'e  tuhned  red ! 
an'  puhple!  an'  green! — an'  blue! — an'  den — 'e 
read  et  to  me!'' 

"Anzen?" 

"He— cussed!'' 

"You?" 

"Me?  Cussed  me,  'is  ole  mammy f  My  Lawd, 
chile !  Whut  yoh  thinkin'  'bout  ?  Co'se  not.  Mr. 
Tho'nton  's  a  gentleman.  Guess  'e  'd  kill  any- 
body whut  had  'a'.  But  'e  cussed  dat  papeh  up 
Washin'ton  Monument  an'  down  ag'in !  'Deed  'e 
did  !  An'  I  helped  'im,  too — to  myself ;  fur  et 's 
turrible  to  be  published,  Fritz — turrihle  disgrace- 
ful!" 

Rosie  showed  symptoms  of  another  breakdown 
until  Fritz  gently  recalled  his  warning  to  her  at 
the  concert. 

"Oh,  go  'long !"  she  cried  angrily.  "  'T  wuz  n't 
my  fault!  Et  wuz  yoh  ugly  Dutch-English. 
You  said  'oveh  me,'  an'  I  could  n't  see  de  uddeh 


194  MAMMY  ROSIE 

side  o'  de  theayter  widout  my  specs  on!  Yoh 
see  ?    Humph  ?" 

She  felt  exonerated  and  resumed  her  pleasanter 
humour.  "Et  's  all  dat  singin'-gal's  fault — ef 
she  can  sing  betteh  nur  all  de  birds.  I  guess 
dat 's  all  she  can  do,  anyway — 'ceptin'  puttin' 
spells  on  men.    De  she-dehhiW 

"Zat  is  luffr 

"Her  way — o'  co'se !    Fust  sight,  too !" 

"You  believe  in  zat?" 

"Love  at  fust  sight  ?  Well,  I  guess  so !  But  I 
doesn't  'prove  ob  et  jes'  de  same!  Uh — uh ! 
Uh— uh  I 

"Humph !"  ejaculated  Rosie,  her  face  and 
manner  suddenly  illuminated  by  a  memory  of 
long  ago.  "Had  et  oncet  myself !  'Deed  I  did ! 
Bad,  too !  Humph  !  Why  de  fust  time  I  seed  dat 
black  niggeh,  I  could  n't  stan'  up  no  moh !  My 
legs  went  jes'  like  dat  undeh  me!"  she  added, 
placing  the  tips  of  two  long  black  fingers  on  her 
lap  and  giving  a  graphic  portrayal  of  her  weak- 
kneed  state. 

"Well?"  inquired  Fritz,  in  wide-eyed  interest. 

"Humph?"  grunted  Rosie  interrogatively  and 
mysteriously. 


ROSIE  GETS  INTO  PRINT  195 

''Did  you  marry  him  ?" 

'Tritz,"  said  the  old  mammy  with  a  wise  look, 
*  yoh  's  whut  dem  little  street-debbils  calls — 
thick.  Dem  isn't  de  folks  yoh  marry!  Co'se 
not !  Leastways,  ef  yoh  does,  yoh  does  n't  stay 
married.  Uh— uh !  When  dat  happy,  confusin' 
—fool  feelin'  's  oveh,  yoh 's  jes'  miserable— 
miserable!  Oh,  my  Lawd!  Guess  I  know! 
Umph ! 

"Happened  to  me  oncet  in  Paris,  too,  whur  all 
dem  crazy  folks  is  whut  can't  speak  English," 
said  Rosie,  now  all  aglow  with  interest  in  the 
ever-popular  theme. 

''Uh— huh !"  she  interpolated,  with  a  knowing 
nod  by  way  oi  punctuation.  "Only  et  wuz  de 
man  whut  had  et  dis  time.  Uh— huh !  De  gro- 
ceh's  boy— a  little  fat,  red-cheeked  debbil  o' 
sixteen!    Uh— huh!" 

'What  did  he?" 

"Made  love  to  me." 

"In  English?" 

"Uh— uh!"  responded  Rosie  with  a  spirited 
shake  of  her  head. 

"You  speak  French  ?" 

"No,  thank  Gawd,  I  does  n't  I" 


196  MAMMY  ROSIE 

"Zen  how  hajff  you  understand?" 

Rosie  looked  Fritz  disdainfully  up  and  down, 
elevated  her  eyebrows  and  scorned  to  ansv/er  such 
stupidity. 

''Well !  I  guess  I  boxed  'is  ears  good"  she 
continued.  "He  wuz  all  red  like  a  lobster  when 
I  was  frew  beatin'  'im.  He  jes'  flew.  He  flew! 
He  flew!  When  I  tole  Miss  Mary  whut  'is 
wohds  sounded  like,  she  laffed  so  ha'd  I  thought 
'er  caw^ets  'u'd  go ! 

"Yas,  'um!  Thank  you,  mam!"  said  Rosie 
irrelevantly. 

Fritz  looked  up  and  down  the  hail  and  then  at 
the  old  mammy  as  if  questioning  her  sanity. 

"De  w^all  wuz  a-speakin'  to  me.  Me  an'  her  's 
great  frens.  She  always  tells  me  when  de  young 
masteh  's  stahtin'  home.  My  Lawd !  She 's 
a-crackin'  ag'in.  Fritz,  he  suhtainly  is  in  de  cahs 
by  dis  time !  An'  I  is  n't  red  up  sence  de  big 
dinneh  las'  night,  neetheh !"  Rosie  took  a  lugu- 
brious survey  of  the  kitchen  and  sighed.  ''She 
suhtainly  is  a  sight!     She  suhtainly  is!" 

"The  hall,  too,"  observed  Fritz. 

"Well !  Yoh  is  n't  tellin'  me  nothin'  new. 
Does  n't  I  know  dey  's  rotten  dirty  ? 


ROSIE  GETS  INTO  PRINT  197 

"Ain't  no  use  reddin'  up  no-how!"  she  added 
peevishly,  resting  her  elbows  on  her  knees  to 
indicate  a  continuation  of  the  confab.  "Gits  dirty 
ag'in !  He  's  givin'  pahties  fur  dat  singin'-bird 
all  de  time.  Ef  she  don't  stop  comin'  roun',  I  '11 
git  dat  nice  little  fat  drug-boy  to  gib  me  some 
moh  o'  dat  stuff  whut  I  put  in  de  cookin'  brandy 
to  make  Pete  stop  stealin'  et.  Dat  '11  make  'er 
tired  o'  us !"  said  Rosie,  rolling  the  whites  of  her 
eyes  portentously. 

''Say,  Fritz,  does  yoh  know  why  de  plum-pud- 
din'  wuz  so  late  las'  night?  'Cause  I  done  put 
Pete's  brandy  into  de  sauce!  I  mos'  fell  out  de 
winder  into  de  co'ht  when  I  tasted  et.  I  tell  yoh 
whut,  ef  I  had  n't  'a'  jumped  in  an'  made  moh, 
we  'd  'a'  had  to  send  stummick-pumps  down  fur 
de  nex'  co'se,  shuh  ! 

"Dere  she  goes  ag'in !  He  suhtainly  is  in  de 
elevateh!  Now,  Fritz,  honey,  does  yoh  mine 
openin'  up  de  pahlah  an'  dinin'-room  fur  me  like 
a  good  boy?  I  isn't  ben  down  to-day.  Dey 's 
jes'  like  yoh  left  'em  las'  night." 

The  valet,  who  had  replaced  Peachy  for  special 
occasions,  obligingly  complied,  and  had  given  the 


198  MAMMY  ROSIE 

place  a  semblance  of  order  by  the  time  Rosie  ap- 
peared in  her  regulation  house  attire. 

''Dere  'e  is !"  she  whispered  in  alarm  as  the 
elevator-door  slammed  without.  "I  fohgot  to 
shet  de  ketchen-doh,  an'  'is  bed  ain't  made 
neetheh.  Won't  'e  be  mad.  I 's  got  to  fool  dat 
deah  chile,  somxehow."  Each  blink  of  her  shining 
eyes  seemed  to  punctuate  a  thought  which  her 
tightly  pursed  lips  were  not  ready  to  utter. 

A  key  rattled  in  the  lock  and  a  step  was  heard 
in  the  entry. 

"Fritz!  Fritz!"  wailed  Rosie,  limping  along 
as  if  in  physical  anguish.  "I 's  'fraid  I 's  got  to  go 
to  bed.  Ouch!  Ouch!  Oh,  de  mis'rv-  in  dese 
ole  bones  o'  mine !" 

''Hello,  Rosie !"  cried  Thornton,  fresh  from  his 
walk  in  the  crisp  wintry  air.  "What  is  the 
matter  now?" 

"I^Iatteh  'nough;  sleepin'  out  o'  dohs  ebery 
night!" 

"Oh,  Rosie!  Rosie!  When  did  you  take  to 
such  dissolute  ways?" 

"Disslet  ways !  Disslet  ways !  ^listeh  Tho'n- 
ton  chile !  Yoh  knows  whut  I  means  good  'nough ! 
Dohs — zi'inders  wide  open  de  whole  night  an* 


ROSIE  GETS  INTO  PRINT  199 

all  de  air  whut  dey  is  a-comin'  into  dis  one  flat  an' 
leavin'  none  out  o'  dohs  nowhur !" 

"Cheer  up,  Rosie!  Cheer  up!"  cried  Thorn- 
ton, busy  with  some  letters  which  had  come  in 
since  his  wrathful  matutinal  departure.  "My 
sister  inquires  after  you !" 

"Oh,  thank  yoh,  honey!  How  is  poh  Miss 
Nellie?" 

"Apparently  in  no  need  of  sympathy.  Why 
do  you  always  call  her  poor  Miss  Nellie?" 

"Well — uh — 'cause  Miss  Nellie  's  a  poh — un^ 
married  chile.    She  ain't  a  settled  lady,  yit." 

"I  infer  by  that  that  you  favour  matrimony?" 

"My  Gawd!"  muttered  Rosie,  suddenly  catch- 
ing at  a  chair  for  support;  and  taking  advan- 
tage of  Thornton's  preoccupation,  she  whispered 
to  Fritz :  "He  's  thinkin'  ob  de  singin'-gal. 

"Yes,  I  does,  fur — uh — real  folks/'  she  said 
aloud.  Rosie  had  suddenly  found  her  cue  and 
winked  sagely  at  Fritz  as  she  added:  "But  not 
fur  de  play  folks  in  de  theayterl" 

"Why  not?" 

"Dey 's  so  much  jealousy,  honey!" 

"Everywhere !" 

"Yes,  dahlin,  dat  's  so ;   but  et  's  special  tryin* 


200  MAMMY  ROSIE 

to  see  yoh  deah  wife  hugged  up  tight  in  some 
uddeh  vile  man's  ahms!  Ain't  et?  I  thought 
yoh  'd  think  so.    Uh— huh  ?" 

''You  seem  to  know  a  lot  about  it,"  observed 
Thornton  dryly. 

*'Co'se  I  does.  Did  n't  ouh  lovely,  sweet  Miss 
Jinny  gib  me  a  ticket  fur  de  operay  to  see  de 
singin'  an'  heah  de  wimmin  talk  out  loud  in  de 
boxes  ?  An'  a  huzzy  on  de  stage  whut  wuz  wuss 
'an  any  zmdder,  wuz  a-makin'  lub  in  a  mountain 
to  a  blabbin'  fool  whut  made  de  sweet,  pure  girl 
whut  loved  'im  die  o'  shame!  Yes,  suh !  Dat 
lovely — pure  girl  jes'  died  o'  shame  fur  'im! 
Yes,  suh !    Yes,  suh !  !" 

"Very  thoughtless  of  Tannhauser  to  tell  on 
himself!" 

"Dey  wuz  n't  no  need !  Dey  wuz  n't  no  need ! 
De  folks  all  knowed  et  an'  flew.  Dey  flew  fum 
'im!    Dey  flew!    Yes,  suh!" 

"Mr.  Tho'nton,  chile !  Dey  's  lovely,  sweet, 
pure  girls  whut  is  n't  play-actin'  an'  is  a-grievin' 
deir  hearts  out  'bout  yoh  vile  men !" 

"You  are  hard  on  us  poor  men." 

"Oh,  I  doesn't  mean  yoh,  honey!  Co'se  not  I 
Yoh — wouldn't  do  nothin'  vile  like  dat!     Oh! 


ROSIE  GETS  INTO  PRINT  201 

No!  Yoh's  a  southern  gentleman  an'  yoh  likes 
Miss  Jinny — too  much — to  make  'er  'shamed  oh 
yoh — like  dat!" 

Thornton  walked  calmly  out  of  the  room 
and  up  the  steps. 

"Dat 's  de  way  yoh  spanks  'em  when  dey  's 
growed  up,"  asserted  Rosie  proudly  to  Fritz, 
who  had  witnessed  her  dramatic  recital  from 
the  pantry.  "An'  et  's  pizen  fur  de  singin'-gal, 
too.  Guess  I'll  take  my  bandaner  off,"  she 
added,  with  a  glow  of  satisfaction,  as  she 
planted  herself  before  a  mantel-mirror. 

"Rosie,"  called  Thornton  from  the  top  step, 
"the  house  is  like  a  pig-pen !" 

"Well,"  replied  Rosie,  calmly  going  to  meet 
him;  "I  knows  et 's  rotten  dirty,  chile:  gib 
me  time!  Ouch!  Ouch!  Oh,  my  Lawd !" 
Stopping  helplessly  on  the  second  step  she 
looked  up  imploringly.  "Neveh  mind  me, 
honey.  Run  'long  an'  git  ready.  I  '11  be  up 
hy-um-hy." 

"I  am  sorry  you  feel  so,  Rosie;  but  a  dozen 
people  will  be  here  by  five  o'clock  and— noth- 
ing ready !" 


202 


MAMMY  ROSIE 


"Well !  Dey  is  n't  goin'  to  set  in  de  bed- 
rooms is  dey?    An'  dey  can't  have  my  ketchen!" 

''But  the  tea-biscuit  and  Sally-Lunn?" 

"Dey  's  ready.    Now  run  'long !" 

Thornton  turned  on  his  heel  and  Rosie,  hear- 
ing a  snicker  at  the  dining-room  door,  gave  a 
nimble  backv/ard  kick  and  suddenly  doubled 
over  with  silent  laughtc^r.  "Say,  Fritz,  yoh  's 
got  to  help  me.  Git  out  de  tea-things  quick. 
Dey  "s  a  roarin'  fire  upstaihs,  an'  I  '11  do  de 
bakin'  be  fob  yoh  can  tuhn  roun'." 

Savor}'  odours  from  the  kitchen  gave 
assurance  of  good  cheer  for  his  guests  as 
Thornton  descended  the  stairway  and  made  a 
critical  survey  of  his  cosy  apartment.  Then 
stealthily — with  an  eye  for  Fritz's  movements 
• — he  took  a  photograph  from  an  inner  pocket 
and,  for  the  fiftieth  time  that  day,  studied  it 
long  and  earnestly.  The  broadside  from  The 
Social  Shotgun,  the  chafiing  of  his  office- 
mates,  even  the  daring  rebuke  from  old  Rosie, 
receded  into  ]\Iemory's  furthermost  border- 
land as  he  feasted  his  eyes  on  the  beloved  and 
beautiful  face.  He  held  it  to  his  lips,  to  his 
cheeks,  his  eyes,  his  forehead  and  pressed  it 


ROSIE  GETS  INTO  PRINT  203 

to  his  heart  in  rapture.  Suddenly  the  shrill 
whirr  of  the  electric  door-bell  recalled  him  to 
his  environment  and  to  the  excuse  for  bidding 
his  friends  in  for  a  cup  of  tea. 

''Miss  Driscoll  told  me  to  give  you  this  and 
to  be  careful."  William's  thick  voice  deflected 
into  a  grunt  as  he  deposited  something  heavy 
and  bulky  In  the  entry. 

''Wait,  Fritz !"  Thornton  called  out  anxious- 
ly. "It  is  my  portrait.  I  '11  help  you  place  it 
on  the  easel." 


CHAPTER  X. 

ROSIE  HAS  A  SET-BACK, 


*^At  his  age  a  man  cares  little  for  the  cost,  if 
he  get  zvhat  he  wants:  and  Billionaire  Trust 
directors  usually  want  the  moon  and  stars  and  a 
noonday  sun  or  two  thrown  in,  as  there  is  so 
little  else  of  zMch  they  go  short/' — Mrs.  Hamp- 
ton-Yorke. 

''Now — Mr.  Tho'nton,  chile;  yoh  chance  'II  he 
heah  dis  aftehnoon:  an'  et  ain't  de  one  whut  puts 
on  spells  whut  weahs  out  like  yoh  ole  pants  an' 
leaves  yoh  settin' — on — on  wuss'an  nothin'. 
'T  ain't  dat  kind.  Oh,  no;  et's  de  kind  whut 
makes  yoh  comf'table  an'  keeps  yoh  decent  an' 
makes  yoh  chillun  proud  o'  yoh  an'  her." 


205 


CHAPTER  X. 

ROSIE   HAS   A   SET-BACK. 

Rosie  stood  rapturously  examining  the  rich 
gold  frame  adorning  Thornton's  excellent  por- 
trait. "Now  won't  dat  make  de  deah  chillun 
happy!  Humph!  'Deed  I  guess  dey  won't 
know  whut  to  do  wid  deirselves  when  dey 
sees  deir  Pa  inside  o'  dat!" 

"What  are  you  talking  about?"  laughed 
Thornton. 

"De  chillun!" 

"Children?    Whose  children?" 

"Yourn,  o'  co'se !  Dey  is  n't  no  uddeh  chillun 
visitin' dis  house;  is  dey?    Huh?" 

"Any — other — children?  What  do  you  mean? 
You  know  I  have  n't  any  children  !" 

"No  I  does  n't !  But  I  hopes  yoh  is  n't  got  any : 
fur  I  tuk  yoh  fur  a  decent  bachelder !" 
207 


2o8  MAMMY  ROSIE 

A  snicker  from  the  dining-room  caused  Rosie 
to  turn  angrily  and  mutter  something  about 
"Dutch  manners,"  but  no  one  being  visible, 
she  returned  to  her  argument  with  a  serious 
countenance. 

"Now,  look  y'  heah,  chile!  When  yoh  tuk 
dis  flat  yoh  did  n't  'spect  to  do  yoh  own  cookin', 
did  yoh  ?  An'  yoh  got  ebery  thing  ready,  too — 
ef  I  is  woh  out  two  paihs  o'  shoes  a-runnin' 
oveh  to  ]\Iiss  Lynch  a-changin'  things  eveh 
sence.  An'  yoh  talked  'bout  de  cook  'foh  she 
come,  didn't  yoh?  Gawd  knows  yoh 's  done 
et  'nough  sence  when  yoh  's  ben  mad ! 

"Now  et '&  jes'  dat  way  wid  a  fambly.  Yoh 
gits  ready  fur  'em  while  yoh  's  thinkin'  'bout 
'em.  Yoh  does  n't  faint,  does  yoh,  when  yoh 
sees  a  bird  make  a  nest  in  a  tree  ur  a  pig 
make  a  hole  in  de  straw?  Huh?  Folks  looks 
at  et,  an'  says  et 's  pretty.  Does  n't  dey  ?  Now, 
fur  Gawd's  sake,  ef  et 's  prett}'  fur  de  bird 
an'  pretty  fur  de  pig,  why  ain't  et  pretty  fur 
yoh?    Why  can't  we  talk 'bout  et?    Huh? 

"Now,  dahlin',  yoh  mus'  let  me  say  somepin' 
an'  yoh  mus'  n't  git  mad  dis  time,  fur  yoh  knows 
I  gibs  yoh  de  same  lub  whut  I  gib  de  young 


ROSIE  HAS  A  SET-BACK  209 

masteh  whut  died  an'  lef  me  my  freedom 
befoh  de  wah;  an'  'e  don't  want  et  no  moh 
now,  'cause  *e  went  to  Hebben,  shuh !  Yoh  's 
got  yoh  flat  whut 's  elegant;  an'  yoh  's  got  yoh 
picture  in  a  grand  gold  frame  whut 's  de 
startin''  oh  a  fambly  on  de  walls  jes'  like  Marse 
John's  an'  Miss  Mary's — but  I  mus'  say  heah, 
deir  chillun  wuz  little  dcbbils.  Well,  I  does  n't 
want  to  disencourage  yoh,  honey.  All  chillun 
is  n't  dat  way  'ceptin'  whur  de  mothehs  is  got 
bawned  in — bushes,  an'  eat  mush  in  Meth'dist 
simnaries!  Yes,  suh!  Yes,  suh!  Folks  whut 's 
got  bawned  in  bushes  like  rabbits,  is  n't  got  no 
— nothin'  behine  'em  fur  de  chillun  to  be  proud 
of.  Dey  is  n't  had  no  gran'faddeh  an'  gran'- 
muddeh,  an'  great-gran' faddeh  an'  great-gran'- 
muddeh  whut  knowed  somepin',  an'  had  some- 
pin',  an'  did  somepin'  'sides  mockin'  birds  to 
tickle  folkses  stummicks  an'  make  'em  laff  tell 
dey  looks  like  fools. 

"Now  fur  Gawd's  sake,  when  de  mothehs  is 
dat  way,  whut  can  yoh  'spect  fum  de  chillun? 
Think  in  time,  honey,  fur  yoh  can't  go  back 
when  et 's  too   late !     Roxana   don't   wan't  to 


2IO  MAMMY  ROSIE 

see  yoh  make  no  mistake.  Et  would  break  'er 
heart,  shuh !" 

Rosie  paused  to  compose  her  ruffled  spirit 
and  then  resumed:  "Dey  is  folks  comin'  heah 
dis  aftehnoon  whut  has  gran'faddehs  an'  gran'- 
muddehs,  an'  great-gran' faddehs  an'  great- 
gran'muddehs  whut  wuz  'ristocratic  gentlemen 
an'  ladies  hciohAdam  an'  Eve  wuz ;  an'  dey  tole 
me  dey  'd  git  Miss  Driscoll  to  make  deir  pic- 
tures, too,  ef  yourn  wuz  good:  an'  I  guess 
et's  grand!  Now — Mr.  Tho'nton,  chile,  yoh 
chance 'II  be  heah  dis  aftehnoon:  an'  et  ain't 
de  one  whut  puts  on  spells  whut  weahs  out  like 
yoh  ole  pants  an'  leaves  yoh  settin'  on — 
lintss'din  nothin'.  'T  ain't  dat  kind.  Oh,  no! 
Et 's  de  kind  whut  makes  yoh  comf 'table  an' 
keeps  yoh  decent  an'  makes  yoh  chillun  proud 
o'  yoh  an'  her! 

"I  guess  I  won't  say  no  moh,"  said  Rosie 
with  a  look  of  superior  intelligence  at  the  ceil- 
ing. "Dey 's  folks  whut  can  undehstan',  an' 
dey 's  folks  whut  cant.  Roxana  '11  wait  an' 
see." 

The  sudden  wdiirr  of  the  electric  bell  came 
as     an     unwelcome     interruption.     Thornton 


ROSIE  HAS  A  SET-BACK  211 

glanced  at  a  mantel-clock.  "Always  the  way!" 
he  muttered,  stepping  into  his  alcove-library, 
as  a  familiar  voice,  pronouncing  his  name,  called 
up  visions  of  magnified  editions  of  the  latest 
Social  Shotgun.  'Invite  people  for  tea  and 
they  come  when  they  like  !" 

'This  way  please.  Madam,"  said  Rosie,  lead- 
ing Mrs.  Parkinson  up  to  the  new  portrait. 

"Splendid  !    A  positive  success  !" 

"Framed  only  in  gold,"  continued  the  visitor 
as  Thornton  came  forward  with  a  poor  effort 
at  concealing  his  self-consciousness,  "when  it 
might  just  as  well  be  in  rubies  and  diamonds; 
and  will  be,  my  dear  boy,  if  you  display  the 
practical  sense  which  people  have — Jieretofore — 
attributed  to  you !" 

Rosie  slipped  out  and  ensconced  herself 
ready  for  duty  in  a  broad  cushioned  seat  under 
a  bit  of  old  stained-glass  which  Thornton,  in 
order  to  give  light  to  the  entry,  had  fitted  into  the 
upper  part  of  a  door-frame  formerly  used  as  an 
entrance  to  his  library. 

"Let 's  go  in  here  for  a  chat,"  cried  Mrs. 
Parkinson,  suddenly  leaving  the  portrait  and 
luring    his    steps    toward    the    alcove.      "I    am 


212  MAMMY  ROSIE 

awfully  early ;  but  I  was  fearful  of  being  side- 
tracked if  I  left  the  neighborhood." 

It  was  Rosie's  good  fortune  that  they  seated 
themselves  on  a  broad,  deep  sofa  from  which 
she  was  separated  by  only  the  thin  antique 
glass. 

''Oh,  Reg!  Reg!"  ]\Irs.  Parkinson  continued 
in  her  tormenting  voice.  ''The  town  is  one 
huge  laugh  over  that  thing  in  The  Social  Shotgun 
this  morning.  Nothing  truer  was  ever  per- 
petrated by  that  vile  sheet ;  for  I  was  in  I\Irs. 
Hampton-Yorke's  box  and  witnessed  the  whole 
side-show  myself.  To  think  of  it — the  model 
young  man — the  pet  of  the  mammas — angled 
for  more  than  any  man  in  New  York — billions 
pitched  into  your  lap — and  you  allow  yourself 
to  be — given  away  like  that  in  public  by  old 
Rosie !  Really  it  is  most  compromising  to  sit 
alone  with  you." 

"Do  you  mind?"  laughed  Thornton,  trying 
to  accept  the  inevitable  chaffing  as  gracefully 
as  possible. 

"On  the  contrary!  Really,  I  have  become  a 
regular  Bohemian  within  a  week's  time. 
Stella  invites  me  to  her  dressing-room  at  the 


ROSIE  HAS  A  SET-BACK  213 

opera;  and  yesterday,  I  was  at  her  luncheon 
for  di  Biancho.  She  put  me  next  to  their 
impresario.  Why,  I  can't  imagine;  but  he 
was  most  entertaining!  He  told  me  that  operatic 
husbands  caused  him  more  'diabolical  trouble' 
and  'cussed  annoyance'  than  his  entire  per- 
sonnel and  the  running  of  the  opera-house 
combined.  He  declared  he  would  rather  see 
the  Plague  walk  in  at  his  office  door;  and  each 
morning  he  prayed  that  he  might  be  spared 
from  killing  a  prima-donna's  husband  before 
nightfall.  By  the  way:  I  asked  him  about 
Vidalli.  He  said  she  sang  'nicely.'  Those 
managers  are  shrewd.  They  fear  a  barely 
kind  word  will  send  an  artist's  price  up.  How- 
ever, the  consensus  of  opinion  was  that  Vidalli 
is  much  overrated. 

"How  could  Madame  Stella's  guests — with 
courtesy — decide  otherwise  ?" 

"Naturally!  But  one  thing  is  certain:  all 
our  women  are  becoming  skeptical  about  her 
steel-armoured  virtue.  People  don't  harp  on 
things  they've  always  possessed;  nor  does  it 
do  for  a  young  and  attractive  woman  to  work 
on  the  susceptibilities  of  too  many  men.     The 


214  MAMMY  ROSIE 

mere  fact  lends  credence  to  that  chorus-girl 
story.'' 

''What  is  that?"  inquired  Thornton,  his  voice 
trembling  with  indignation. 

'They  say  she  once  sang  in  the  Casino 
chorus." 

''Never!    It  was  a  Methodist  chorus!" 

"Oh,  well;  it's  all  the  same  thing!  People 
mix  things  so !" 

"Purposely !" 

"Now  don't  get  silly  just  because  you  've 
been  flirting  a  bit.  We  all  do  that.  You  hear 
but  one  side  of  the  story.  People  in  the 
operatic  world  have  better  information.  Stella 
knozi's  that  Vidalli  was  hissed  in  Italy  by  an 
indignant  public  because  she  had  possessed 
herself  of  the  manager  and  driven  out  their 
favourite  singer:  and — as  for  her  stepfather — 
she  never  heard  of  him  until  they  met  the  day 
after  her  arrival  and  went  to  that  French — board- 
ing-house !" 

"Lies!  Lies — every  one  of  them!  Somebody 
Vv'ill  answer  dearly  for  them !"  Thornton 
sprang  angrily  to  his  feet  and  began  to  pace  up 
and  down. 


ROSIE  HAS  A  SET-BACK  215 

*'To  whom?"  inquired  Mrs.  Parkinson,  with 
unusual  distinctness. 

''To !"     The  answer  died  on  his  lips. 

Mrs.  Parkinson  laughed  merrily  and  carried 
her  cruel  torture  to  the  finish.  "What  a 
splendid  operatic  husband  you  would  make. 
It  is  a  questionable  happiness,  though,  dear 
Reg.  They  say  Paleska's  husband  has  never 
seen  her  in  opera  since  they  were  married. 
He  is  so  absurdly  jealous  he  can't  bear  to  see 
another  man's  arms  around  her — even  on  the 
stage.  Isn't  he  foolish?  Pleasant  life  for  a 
man  whose  wife  sings  twice  a  week  in  opera! 
Is  it  not?  He  had  an  excellent  business,  too: 
but  was  forced  to  give  it  up  to  look  out  for  her 
greater  interests — and  lives  on  her  money.  Such 
a  neat  way  to  blend  a  man's  talents  and — his 
prided 

An  abrupt  whirr  from  the  entry-bell  almost 
ended  Rosie's  life,  so  deeply  absorbed  was  she 
in  the  conversation.  She  sat  pressing  her 
hands  over  her  heart,  as  Fritz  answered  the 
second  call  and  admitted  Miss  Driscoll. 

"My  Lawd,  honey,"  mumbled  the  old 
mammy   scrambling   to   her    feet,    "yoh   landed 


2i6  MAMMY  ROSIE 

like  a  earthquake.  De  elevateh  mos'  gin'rally 
tells  us  when  folks  is  comin' ;  but  dis  time — Uh !" 
"I  tell  you  what  it  is,  Rosie,"  exclaimed  the 
artist  irrelevantly  and  in  a  state  of  blind  agita- 
tion, "I  have  n't  been  so  excited  since  the  day 
I  was  graduated  from  the  High  School." 

"Neveh     mind — neveh     mind,"     replied     old 
Rosie  with  great  mystery  in  glance  and  ges- 
ture.    "Dey  is  uddehs  whuts  de  same  way; 
an'  dey  won't  see  yohs.     So  jes'  make  yohself 
ca'w,  Miss.     Folks  says  only  de  good  things 
befoh  yoh  face,  an}^way :    so  yoh  is  n't  goin' 
to  fine  out  whut   dey  really   thinks,   'ceptin' 
.when  dey  axes  yoh  to  paint  'em,  too." 
"Oh,  do  you  believe  they  will?" 
"Co'se.    I  done  tole  'em  all  'bout  yoh." 
"Oh,  Rosie !    How  good  of  you !" 
"Tell    yoh    whut    'tis,    chile;     ef    yoh '11    set 
dere  in  de  dinin'-room — on  dat  cheer — dey  won't 
know    who   yoh    is :     an'    den    yoh  '11   heah    de 
troof,  shuh !" 

As  Rosie  drew  the  door  back  just  in  time  to 
forestall  another  shock  from  the  electric  bell, 
Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke  sailed  magnificently 
through  into  the  drawing-room.     Raising  her 


ROSIE  HAS  A  SET-BACK  217 

lorgnettes,  she  stopped  before  the  easel. 
"Splendid!  A  perfect  likeness!  Now  there 
is  some  comfort  in  offering  posterity  a  thing 
that  does  n't  lie.  I  have  been  painted  by  a 
half-dozen  celebrated  artists  and  exhibited  in 
the  Salon :  but  not  a  living  creature  would 
have  recognised  me  if  I  had  n't  been  labelled. 
Who  is  the  artist?" 

Rosie  called  Thornton's  attention  to  Miss 
Driscoll. 

*'Ah,  here  she  is,"  he  said,  bringing  her  for- 
ward. 

''So  young,  too!"  Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke 
extended  her  hand.  "Why,  my  dear,  you  have 
positive  genius.  What  do  you  ask  for  your 
portraits  ?" 

"Three  hundred  dollars,"  answered  Thorn- 
ton for  her,  thinking  the  two  hundred  he  had 
sent  her  that  morning  a  niggardly  sum  for 
such  meritorious  work. 

Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke  smiled  approvingly. 
"I  '11  give  you  an  order  now,  if  you  have  time 
for  me.  I  can  sit  Tuesdays  and  Thursdays  at 
eleven." 

The  modest  little  artist  welcomed  the  gen- 


2i8  MAMMY  ROSIE 

eral  confusion  caused  by  a  series  of  arrivals, 
for  she  had  never  before  encountered  such  a 
company  of  gay  worldlings,  nor  had  she  had 
reason  to  cherish  anything  more  than  the 
memory  of  faint  praise  from  the  shopman 
who  purchased  her  ''pot-boilers." 

Concealed  by  the  portiere,  Rosie  was  follow- 
ing every  phase  of  Miss  Driscoll's  triumph 
when  near-by  voices  startled  her. 

'Where  is  that  Gibraltar  of  virtue?  She  just 
about  lives  here,  I  hear." 

"Whom  do  you  mean?"  inquired  Mrs. 
Hampton-Yorke  severely. 

"Vidalli,"  answered  ]\lrs.  Parkinson. 

"Do  be  careful,  Anna;  you  have  black- 
guarded that  poor  girl  so  persistently  since  last 
Thursday  that  your  enemies  accuse  you  of 
ulterior  motives." 

"How  absurd!  What  motive  could  I  have  in 
persecuting  Vidalli  ?" 

Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke  found  it  unnecessary 
to  reply:  for,  at  that  moment,  Fritz  held  the 
portiere  aside  and  admitted  ]\Iiss  Vidalli  and 
Hugh  Melrose. 

Rosie  could  distinguish  nothing  more  in  the 


ROSIE  HAS  A  SET-BACK  219 

hum  of  general  conversation,  although  two 
shadows  on  the  antique  window  betokened 
an  impending  tete-a-tete  within  her  hearing. 
"Fritz,"  she  whispered  excitedly,  "I  '11  open 
de  doh,  ef  yoh  '11  staht  de  wateh  b'ilin'  fur  de 
tea.     I 's  busy  heah." 

The  valet  grinned  knowingly  at  this  un- 
spoken promise  of  sweetmeats,  and  the  old 
mammy  abruptly  retired  into  her  corner,  just 
as  Mrs.  Hampton- Yorke  was  saying  with  per- 
ceptible annoyance:  'What  ever  possessed 
you  to  come  with  him?" 

"I  could  n't  avoid  it,"  replied  Miss  Vidalli, 
evidently  likewise  vexed.  'T  was  saying  good- 
bye to  his  wife  and  niece  at  Mrs.  Henshaw's 
when  he  came  up  and  asked  them  to  leave, 
also;  but  they  wished  to  hear  Nitroni  sing 
once  more :  and  although  I  tried  to  escape,  he 
overtook  me  at  the  door  and  simply  said  he 
would  walk  here  with  me." 

''Don't  do  it  again  under  any  circumstances. 
I  can  advise  you  intelligently,  as  I  know  the 
private  life  of  every  man  in  New  York.  Hugh 
Melrose  can  compromise  you  more  than  all 
the    others    put    together;     for,    by    this    time, 


220  MAMMY  ROSIE 

every  one  has  heard  of  your  quest  of  money 
that  you  may  return  to  opera:  and  Hberality 
to  his  harem  is  one  of  his  virtues !"  At  his  age 
a  man  cares  Httle  for  the  cost,  if  he  get  what 
he  wants ;  and  bilhonaire  trust  directors 
usually  v/ant  the  moon  and  stars  and  a  noon- 
day sun  OT  two  throw'n  in — there  is  so  little 
else  of  which  they  go  short." 

"I  wonder  if  he  considers  it  right?"  inter- 
posed ]\Iiss  Vidalli. 

"  'Might  is  right,'  is  his  motto,"  was  the 
answer;  ''and  not  the  Czar,  Emperor  William 
and  King  Edw^ard,  triple-handed,  could  make 
him  yield  one  iota.  You  can  hardly  blame 
him.  I  know  many  worse  men.  His  vast 
wealth  makes  him  the  prey — a  willing  prey  at 
times — of  unscrupulous  women  who  have 
positions  to  maintain.  ^ly  dear,  it  really  wounds 
me  to  say  this ;  but  I  am  an  old  v/oman :  you 
are  young,  beautiful,  a  stranger  and  unchap- 
eroned.  Every  glance  at  you  is  an  interroga- 
tion, ^lake  your  position  clear  before  your 
natural  enemies  can  assail  it.  They  have  al- 
ready pounced  upon  Hugh  ]'\Ielrose's  devotion 
to  you  wherever  you  have  sung." 


ROSIE  HAS  A  SET-BACK  221 

"And  I  have  kept  him  at  arm's-length !" 

"They  don't  know  that;  which  behooves 
you  to  be  all  the  more  discreet.  His  desire  is 
the  thing  society  considers:  when  some  one 
remarked  yesterday  at  a  woman's-luncheon 
that  the  one  way  to  secure  the  mighty  Mel- 
rose for  a  social  function  was  to  announce  that 
you  would  sing,  a  half-dozen  women  were 
visibly  moved.  Have  you  booked  any  en- 
gagements since  yesterday?" 

"Four.    At  Mrs.  Van  Silts " 

"Yes." 

"Mrs.  Williamson's " 

"Yes." 

"Mrs.  Carstairs " 

"Yes." 

"And  Mrs.  Algernon  Brown's." 

"Yes ;   all  four  at  that  luncheon !" 

"This  gossip,"  replied  Miss  Vidalli  with 
spirit,  "is  all  on  the  surface:  and  in  whatever 
guise  it  appear,  I  am  convinced  that  it  is  the 
work  of  one  person — a  person  with  a  clearly  de- 
fined motive." 

"Undoubtedly." 


222  MAMMY  ROSIE 

"I  am  told  she  roasts  society  surreptitiously 
in  the  Shotgun. 

''Another  source  of  revenue/'  said  Mrs. 
Hampton-Yorke ;  ''but  more  particularly  a 
ruse  to  keep  herself  out  of  print:  so  you  can 
imag-ine  we  don't  dare  leave  her  out  of  any- 
thing— excepting  intimate  gatherings — or,  our 
reputations  would  suffer  more  than  by  associ- 
ation.   Thus,  we  live — terrorized  !" 

"She  has  become  suddenly  intimate  with 
Stella,  I  hear?" 

"Yes." 

"Which  accounts  for  my  inability  to  get  an 
engagement  at  one  of  the  Sunday  evening 
concerts." 

"My  dear,"  said  3^Irs.  Hampton-Yorke  kind- 
ly, "the  example  of  a  good  life  and  a  great 
artistic  career  will  dispel  every  cloud  on  your 
horizon  to-day." 

"Then  what  would  you  do  at  present?" 

"Stick  my  head  in  the  air  and  tell  the  gos- 
sips to  go  to  the  Devil!" 

The  company  had  all  assembled,  including 
Mrs.  and  ]\Iiss  Melrose,  and  Dick  Wynne,  who 
was    constantly    hovering    over    them    since 


ROSIE  HAS  A  SET-BACK  223 

Thornton's  devotion  to  Miss  Vidalli  had  be- 
come common  gossip. 

This  new  order  of  things  lay  like  lead  on 
the  poor  old  darkey's  faithful  heart  as  she  and 
Fritz  dispensed  the  hospitality  which  once  had 
been  her  greatest  joy.  The  twinkle  in  each 
friendly  eye  was,  to  her,  a  mere  reminder  of  the 
humiliating  exposure  in  The  Social  Shotgun. 
Overjoyed  to  get  her  liberty  at  last,  she  re- 
sorted to  her  dark  nook  in  the  entry  to  hide  her 
mortification.  Fate  seemed  to  have  led  her 
there,  for  out  of  the  library  came  the  sound  of 
subdued  voices. 

"  'There  's  many  a  slip  'twixt  the  cup  and  the 
lip !'  "  said  Mrs.  Parkinson.  "When  they  were 
constantly  together  at  Newport,  last  summer, 
I  was  sure  he  would  prove  to  be  Virginia's 
fate.  It 's  a  pity,  too ;  for  she  likes  him ;  and 
— there  are  so  many  lovely  'bounders'  floating 
about,  one  never  knows  what  may  happen." 

"Oh,  Virginia  has  plenty  of  time,"  mumbled 
Mr.  Melrose. 

"Nevertheless,  you  would  like  to  have  a 
hand  in  the  selection  of  her  husband,  would  n't 
you?" 


224  MAMMY  ROSIE 

"Ye— es." 

"And  you  don't  know  a  worthier  young  fel- 
low than  Reg,  do  you  ?" 

"Gawd  bless  yoh  fur  dat,  Madam,"  inter- 
polated Rosie  fervently  to  herself.  "I  '11  neveh 
call  yoh  a  cat  no  moh !" 

''No — o,"  replied  Mr.  Melrose,  "I  can't  say 
I  do." 

"Then  it  is  a  pity  to  let  this  adventuress  ruin 
their  two  lives." 

"Oh,  no !    It  is  n't  as  bad  as  that." 

"You  never  believe  me  when  I  tell  you  any- 
thing! And  how  many  times  have  you  had  to 
admit  that  it  was  just  as  I  had  predicted?" 

"That  is  so,"  replied  IMr.  i\Ielrose,  laughing 
indulgently. 

"Mark  my  word — she  does  n't  care  a  snap  of 
her  finger  for  Reg.  She  is  using  him  as  a 
catspaw :  and  when  she  has  her  chestnuts, 
she  will  toss  Jihn  into  the  fire  and  let  him  sizzle. 
She  ought  to  be  sent  oit\  She  told  me  five 
thousand  dollars  would  last  her  two  years  in 
Italy." 

"She  will  soon  earn  that  amount  here." 

"Never.    A  half-dozen  times  more  will  finish 


ROSIE  HAS  A  SET-BACK  225 

her.  New  York  will  seek  another  toy.  I  am 
sure  Mrs.  Melrose  would  send  Vidalli  back  if 
you  desired  it:  philanthropy — the  advance- 
ment of  art — anything  is  excuse  enough  to 
propose  it.'* 

Rosie  heard  no  more.  Some  departing 
guests  were  quickly  followed  by  others — 
among  them  Miss  Melrose,  who  whispered 
that  she  and  her  uncle  had  given  orders  to  Miss 
Driscoll  for  portraits — until  only  two  couples  re- 
mained visible.  Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke  and 
Mrs.  Parkinson  had  their  heads  together  over 
the  tea-table  in  the  dining-room,  whilst  Miss 
Driscoll  and  Mr.  Rainey,  who  had  been  urged 
by  Thornton  to  come  in  and  meet  his  step- 
daughter's friends,  were  talking  about  art  in 
the  drawing-room.  Quick  as  thought,  Rosie 
turned  toward  her  post  in  the  entry  to  hearken 
to  Thornton  and  Miss  Vidalli  in  earnest  con- 
versation in  the  library. 

"Nine  engagements  still  to  fill,"  Thornton 
was  saying,  as  his  black  guardian  shifted  to  a 
more  favourable  position  for  hearing  their  sub- 
dued voices.    "When  is  the  last?" 


226  MAMMY  ROSIE 

"January  nineteenth,  at  ]\Irs.  Algernon 
Brown's,"  responded  Miss  Vidalli. 

"Don't  accept  any  more." 

"I  must!    I  must  return  to  Italy!" 

''Don't  return  to  Italy."  Thornton's  voice 
was  almost  inaudible.  Rosie  tore  away  the 
cushions  and,  resting  on  her  knees,  held  her  ear 
against  the  opaque  glass. 

I  must;'  v/as  the  faltering  reply,  "I  have  my 
career  to  think  of." 

"Give  up  your  career." 

Two  shadows  which  had  slowly  merged  into 
one  on  the  glass,  divided  abruptly,  the  space 
widening  between  them  as  the  singer  gasped: 
"Give  up  my  career?  Never!  My  artistic  and 
my  private  life  must  first  give  the  lie  to  that 
wicked,  intriguing  woman !" 

"Mrs.  Parkinson?" 

"Yes." 

"What  have  you  heard?" 

"Everything." 

"Give  me  the  right  to  answer  her."  Thorn- 
ton's shadow  moved  nearer. 

"I  can't,"  replied  Miss  Vidalli,  maintaining 


ROSIE  HAS  A  SET-BACK  227 

her  position;  "a  woman  must  answer  for  her- 
self." 

"Your  Jtusband  can  answer  for  you." 

The  ensuing  pause  was  so  long  that  Rosie 
buried  her  face  in  the  cushioned  back  of  the 
seat  to  suppress  a  cry  of  rage  and  anguish. 

''Vida,"  he  whispered,  "you  know  I  love 
you.    Do  I  need  tell  you?" 

"No,"  she  murmured.    "No." 

"I  loved  you  the  first  moment  I  saw  you." 

"Please  don't,"  she  entreated  softly.  "You 
have  known  me  but  a  week." 

"I  have  waited  for  you  all  my  life.  Why 
should  I  not  speak  now?  My  home  is  ready 
for  you.    Will  you  come  to  it — my  wife?" 

Her  shadow  moved  away  from  his  in  the 
silence  of  a  pause. 

"Can  you  not  care  for  me  enough?"  he  in- 
quired beseechingly. 

"A  woman  must  care  for  a  man  as  devoted — 
tender — and  noble  as  you,"  she  answered, 
gaining  assurance  as  she  spoke;  "but  marriage 
is  not  for  as." 

"Why  not?" 

"I  am  an  artist." 


228  MAMMY  ROSIE 

*'And  I  love  you." 

"Oh,  don't!  I  entreat  you!"  she  implored 
with  unmistakable  pain  in  her  voice.  "One  re- 
quires time  to  consider  so  serious  a  step." 

Thornton  took  her  hand  in  his,  pressed  it  to 
his  lips  and  held  it  to  his  cheek  in  an  ecstasy 
of  emotion. 

"I  must  go,"  she  whispered  timorously,  ris- 
ing abruptly  as  if  fearing  to  trust  herself 
further.  "Those  ladies  will  wonder  at  our  ab- 
sence." 

"I  may  come  to  you — for  dinner?"  he  en- 
treated, yet  with  a  conscious  ring  of  triumph. 

"Of  course,"  she  faltered  with  a  tell-tale 
catch  in  her  voice,  as  if  wondering  that  he 
should  consider  it  necessary  to  ask  the  ques- 
tion. 

Rosie  hid  her  face  in  the  cushions  in  dumb 
despair,  blind  to  her  environment  until  Fritz 
plucked  her  sleeve  to  remind  her  that  the 
guests  were  leaving. 

"Thank  Gawd !"  she  said  dully,  crossing  her- 
self. "Thank  Gawd !  De  masteh  's  goin'  out 
to  dinneh.  Yoh  can  eat  up  eberything,  an' 
take  de  rest  to  yoh  Ma.    I 's  goin'  to  bed." 


CHAPTER  XL 

ROSIE   AT   THE    MAISON    LEROUX. 

1.  The  Poker  Party. 

2.  A  Full  House. 

3.  A  Royal  Flush. 


€fi 


'Is  dis  a  French  hohdin' -house?"  she  asked 
with  all  her  winsome  Southern  grace. 

"An'  is  dey  a  singin'-lady  mid  a  funny  name 
like  Dalalli  a-livin'  heahf"  she  added. 


229 


CHAPTER  XL 

ROSIE  AT  THE   MAISON   LEROUX 

I.— The  Poker  Party. 

"Jack  pot  to  open.    Put  up!"— Madame 
Leroux. 

Spiritually  and  physically  Rosie  was  a 
wreck.  Neither  the  rich  gifts  of  friends  at 
Christmas,  nor  the  solicitous  kindness  ol 
Thornton,  seemed  to  more  than  momentarily 
lighten  the  shadow  deepening  around  her.  She 
acquired  a  cough  and  took  to  "mis'ry"  as  a 
theme  for  daily  variations  whereupon  to  build; 
but  as  to  the  actual  cause  of  her  decline— never 
so  much  as  a  hint ! 

Her  pride  had  been  woefully  lacerated  by 
Thornton's  proposal  to  Miss  Vidalli,  and  her 
versatile  wit  benumbed  as  in  the  dark  days 
on  Seventh  Avenue.  In  her  humiliation,  she 
altogether  ceased  her  visits  to  the  Melrose 
231 


232  MAMMY  ROSIE 

and  Hampton-Yorke  mansions.  She  con- 
sidered the  present  a  purgatory — a  horrible 
lapse  between  a  stoppage  of  time  and  the  re- 
opening of  the  future  as  defined  by  the  date 
of  Miss  Vidalli's  last  New  York  engagement, 
January  the  nineteenth.  In  truth,  she  would 
have  resigned  hope  altogether  but  for  her 
faith  in  the  insidious  w^orkings  of  Mrs.  Parkin- 
son's venom  and  in  that  same  lady's  influence 
over  Hugh  Melrose:  for,  Thornton,  Rosie 
considered,  was  too  hopelessly  blinded  by  the 
prima-donna's  magic  spell  to  be  rescued  by 
any  ordinary  means.  She  had  accustomed  her- 
self to  look  upon  the  union  of  Thornton  and 
Virginia  as  the  excuse  for  her  existence  and — 
like  the  paid  up  transaction  with  the  under- 
taker— the  price  of  her  ticket  to  Paradise. 
Now  she  saw  her  ambition  thwarted,  her  fond- 
est wash  unfulfilled,  and  her  home  desecrated 
and  bemeaned. 

Friday,  the  twentieth  of  January,  dawned 
like  Easter  for  Rosie.  She  wondered,  in  saying 
her  beads,  if  lilies  or  wax  flowers  would  typify 
her  hopes  ere  the  break  of  another  day;  for 
she  had  resolved  to  beard  the  lion  in  his  den 


ROSIE  AT  THE  MAISON  LEROUX  233 

and  forecast  the  future.  Yes ;  that  very  day 
she  would  pay  a  visit  to  Miss  Vidalli,  carrying 
with  her  as  a  propitiator}^  offering,  a  delicately 
concocted  ''Sally-Lunn,"  and  relying  upon  her 
own  ready  wit  for  guidance  and  self-protec- 
tion. 

Thornton  dressed  early  for  the  evening  and 
departed,  according  to  a  recent  custom,  with- 
out mentioning  his  destination.  In  fact,  he 
had  not  dined  at  home  since  the  holidays. 
Rosie  followed  him  as  quickly  as  she  could 
don  her  wrap,  and,  boarding  a  Sixth  Avenue 
car,  made  the  journey  to  Thirty-fifth  Street. 
She  knew  vaguely  that  Miss  Vidalli  lived 
there  and  determined  to  inquire  at  every  door, 
as  far  as  Fifth  Avenue,  until  she  found  her. 
Slowly  working  her  way  past  dwellings  which 
had  been  remodelled  for  business  purposes, 
the  dim-eyed  old  mammy  ascended  to  the  first 
house  which  looked  like  a  residence  and  rang 
the  bell. 

A  flood  of  light  suddenly  illuminated  her 
dusky  face.  'Ts  dis  a  French  bohdin'-house?" 
she  asked  with  all  her  winsome  Southern 
grace. 


234  MAMMY  ROSIE 

Rosie  was  black;  she  was  accustomed  to 
cruel  taunts  and  rebuffs;  yet,  when  the  door 
slammed  in  her  face  and  she  was  suddenly  left 
m  darkness,  a  cry  for  the  Evil  One's  assistance 
rose  involuntarily  to  her  lips.  Then  she 
smiled  blandly.  The  man  who  slammed  the 
door  had  shattered  the  glass  in  the  upper  half 
of  it.  "Yoh  loss  and  my  luck !"  she  said  aloud. 
*'Dey  is  n't  nothin'  whut  's  luckier-makin'  dan 
breakin'  glass,  'ceptin'  lookin'-glasses,  an'  I  guess 
yoh  won't  want  'o  look  in  yourn  much  befoh  dis 
is  paid  fur !" 

It  was  a  full  half-hour  before  her  stereotyped 
question  met  an  affirmative  response.  "An' 
is  dey  a  singin'-lady  wid  a  funny  name  like 
Dalalli  a-livin'  heah?''  she  added. 

"Sure,"  said  the  boy,  admitting  her  to  a 
square  entrance  hall ;   "but  she  's  at  dinner." 

"Wid  'er  step-faddeh  an'  a — young  man?" 

"Sure !" 

"Well — when  she  comes  out,  yoh  can  wJiis- 
per  to  'er  dat  'Rosie'  wants  to  see  'er.  Can't 
yoh?" 

"Sure !" 

"Now  whur  can  yoh  stick  me  out  o'  de  way, 


ROSIE  AT  THE  MAISON  LEROUX  235 

sonny,  tell   she's   ready.     Any  whur '11   do.     I 
can  go  in  de  ketchen,  or  set  behine  a  doh." 

''Come  in  here,"  said  the  boy,  leading  her 
through  a  doorway  which  had  been  cut  in  the 
wall  by  Papa  Leroux  when  he  acquired  the 
neighbouring  house  as  an  adjunct  to  his  pen- 
sion. "No  one  comes  through  here.  They  go 
out  of  the  dining-room  by  the  other  hall." 

The  long  salon  of  the  Maison  Leroux  served 
various  purposes.  Divided  at  the  centre  by 
a  heavy  curtain  depending  from  the  ceiling, 
the  front  section  became  a  general  reception- 
room,  and  the  rear  half  the  private  parlour  of 
the  proprietor  and  his  worthy  helpmate.  Here 
they  shut  themselves  in  with  heavy  screens  on 
two  sides  in  order  to  convert  the  outlying  por- 
tion into  a  combination  waiting-room  and  pas- 
sage way  between  the  houses.  Access  to  this 
enclosure  was  on  the  long  side  facing  an  old- 
fashioned  archway  which  led  to  the  main  cor- 
ridor of  the  house.  Someone  was  entering 
there  as  Rosie  seated  herself  in  the  narrow 
waiting-room,  and  although  she  could  not  see, 
she  heard  distinctly  enough  to  follow  all  that 
was  taking  place. 


236  MAIMMY  ROSIE 

''Good  evening,  Doctor!"  cried  an  aged  voice. 

"Good-evening,  Madame  ]\larceau !'' 

'Tlaying  solitaire?'' 

"Could  it  be  anything  else,  when  I  am 
alone?" 

"Ugh !"  ]\Iadame  Marceau  ejaculated  in  dis- 
gust. "Always  grumpy;  you  hqodoo  me,  any- 
way;  opposite,  is  near  enough  to  you!" 

"Hello !  I  'm  here !"  cried  another  arrival 
in  fresh,  ringing  tones  as  she  closed  the  screen 
behind  her. 

"Good-evening,  Doctor!"  she  shouted  in  his 
ear. 

"Good-evening,  ]\ladame  Topeka !" 

"What  have  you  in  that  reticule?"  inquired 
Madame  ]\Iarceau.    "Your  night  clothes?" 

"Sandwiches,"  replied  ]\Iadame  Topeka, 
thumping  her  bag  down  on  the  table. 
"Thought  I  'd  put  Madame  Leroux  to  shame." 

"Impossible !" 

"I  '11  have  the  satisfaction  of  making  her 
mad,  anyway.  Her  stinginess  is  disgraceful. 
Here  we  sit,  night  after  night,  week  after 
week,  and  she  taking  five  cents  out  of  every 
jack  pot.     Ask  her  why  she  does  it,  and  she 


ROSIE  AT  THE  MAISON  LEROUX  237 

says :  The  cards ;  the  Hghts ;  the  room !' 
Phew !  As  long  as  I  have  played  here,  I've 
never  had  as  much  as  a  piece  of  bread  and  but- 
ter or  a  drink  of  whisky  that  one  of  the  play- 
ers did  n't  sign  for.  It 's  outrageous  !  Why 
at  Madame  Bertram's,  the  buffet  is  set  with  all 
that  they  want  to  eat  and  drink  every  evening 
before  they  begin  to  play.  It 's  a  fifty-cent 
limit,  too: — real  poker.  You  can't  bluff  on  a 
quarter  limit." 

*'Say,  Doctor,"  she  shouted,  "we  're  going 
to  have  supper  to-night." 

'T  '11  bet  the  Lerouxs  don't  furnish  it." 

"Half  of  it,  anyway.  When  old  Leroux 
was  tipsy  the  other  night,  he  promised  me  a 
bottle  of  whisky  on  my  birthday.  His  wife 
overheard  it  and  nearly  had  apoplexy ;  but  he 
was  too  drunk  to  catch  her  eye.  I  played 
poker  with  my  woman's  club  this  afternoon  and 
got  no  dinner;  so  I  brought  it  with  me  and 
mean  to  fool  the  Lerouxs  out  of  a  bottle." 

"You  won't  if  she  gets  on  to  it." 

"She 's  the  closest  woman  on  earth,"  cried 
Madame  Topeka,  evidently  indifferent  to  who 
overheard.     "She  made  four  thousand  dollars 


238  MAMAIY  ROSIE 

out  of  poker  last  year.  I  tell  you  I  would  n't 
give  any  more  singin'  lessons  if  they  'd  let  me 
keep  the  'kitty.'  Well,  I  don't ;  so  here  's  three 
times  'round  for  luck." 

Madame  ]\Iarceau  and  the  Doctor  laughed 
as  the  singing-teacher  trudged  patiently  in  a 
circle  before  inverting  her  chair  to  perfect  the 
charm  and  replace  it  with  a  bang  on  the  floor. 

The  rattling  of  poker-chips  was  punctuated 
by  Madame  Topeka's  voice :  "]\Iine  are  all 
here.     I  wonder  who  is  playing  to-night?'' 

'There 's  the  bride's  voice  now,"  replied 
Madame  Marceau.  "I  hope  she  did  n't  bring 
him.  He 's  a  regular  adventurer.  Madame 
Leroux  tried  to  stop  the  marriage ;  but  Foulon 
claimed  to  be  'sixteen'  in  her  feelings  and — 
undertook  his  support." 

"How  old  is  she?" 

"Sixty-five !" 

"Well !  She  's  a  wonder !  How  many  hus- 
bands has  her  dressmaking  supported?'' 

"Four — if  you  count  Le  Baron  :  but — that 
was  forty  years  ago." 

"Hello,  children  !"  A  peculiar  foreign  voice 
accompanied  the  creaking  of  the  screen-panel 


ROSIE  AT  THE  MAISON  LEROUX  239 

"Hello,  Madame!"  responded  Madame 
Topeka  gaily.  "How  young  you  look ;  you  're 
not  a  day  over  twenty-five !" 

"Zat  's  pecause  I  'm  so  habby." 

"Happy?  Oh  no !  How  long  have  you  been 
married?" 

"Fifty,"  said  Madame  Marceau. 

"She  vas  n't  ask  you  how  long  you  been 
married,  Madame,"  exclaimed  the  bride  spite- 
fully. 

"I  was  counting  my  chips,"  replied  Madame 
Marceau  in  a  hard  voice. 

Madame  Foulon,  having  administered  her 
rebuke,  murmured  a  gentle  answer:  "Five 
tays." 

"Ah,  you  little  turtle  dove !  I  wish  I  had 
somebody  to  coo  to  me,"  observed  Madame 
Topeka. 

"Coo?  Coo?  Coo?"  sighed  a  masculine 
voice  outside  the  screen.  The  entrance  panel 
creaked  audibly  above  Madame  Topeka's  de- 
lighted cry : 

"Just  look  at  that  old  humbug !  You  're 
foolin',  Leroux !  You  know  you  are !  You 
don't  love  me  a  bit !" 


240  MAMMY  ROSIE 

"Don't  I?    Don't  I?" 

''Oh,  Lawd !  Ain't  it  cunnin'  ?  It  knows  it 's 
my  birthday ;  does  n't  it  ?  Does  it  remember 
what  it  promised  me  ?  Now  don't  look  over  your 
shoulder.    She  is  n't  there !" 

"Yes,"  whispered  Leroux. 

"Then  run  quick  and  get  it  before  she  comes. 
I  '11  tell  her  I  brought  it  wath  me.  Don't  lose 
time  throwin'  kisses ;  I  '11  give  you  a  real  one 
if  you  '11  get  back  before  she  does." 

The  two  Frenchwomen  laughed,  but 
Madame  Topeka  spoke  seriously  as  the  screen 
closed  behind  ]\Ionsieur  Leroux:  "I  hope 
they  '11  begin  early  to-night." 

"It 's  only  half-past  seven,"  said  Aladame 
Marceau. 

"I  know,  but  the  Doctor  always  quits  at  one 
o'clock.  Makes  me  sick.  Does  n't  give  you 
time  to  get  your  money  back  if  you  sit  in  bad 
luck." 

"He'll  go  anyway,  if  he  lose  two  stacks, 
no  matter  how  much  he  has  won  the  night  be- 
fore." 

"He  's  a  stinchy  ole  man !"  IMadame  Foulon 
declared. 


ROSIE  AT  THE  MAISON  LEROUX  241 

The  Doctor  cleared  his  throat  in  protest  and 
drew  his  foot  heavily  over  the  carpet. 

"Look  out,"  said  Madame  Topeka  softly. 
"He  never  hears  when  you  want  him  to.  Guess 
it 's  the  timbre  of  your  voice,  Madame.  Even 
deaf  men  can't  resist  it." 

"You  silly  girl,"  simpered  the  bride. 

"Oui,  ma  cherie — ma  belle  Me,"  rose  strong, 
self-reliant  tones  in  the  archway. 

"The  Devil!"  muttered  Madame  Topeka. 
"I  knew  the  old  man  would  get  caught." 

"Good-evening,  Madame  Leroux,"  she 
added,  as  Madame  Foulon  contributed  a  hon 
soir;  and  the  mistress  of  the  house  settled 
herself  at  the  table. 

"Ma  mignonne/'  continued  Madame  Leroux, 
as  a  toy  dog  barked  importunately.  "Run  over 
the  table,  Ninette,  and  bring  Mamma  luck." 

"Well,"  ejaculated  Madame  Marceau,  "I  Ve 
lost  steadily  for  a  week.  If  I  don't  have  luck 
to-night,  I  '11  stop  playing  poker." 

"For  a  whole  night,"  laughed  Madame 
Leroux.  "Here ;  this  is  a  rare  favour,  as  you 
know :  you  may  touch  my  hangman's-rope !" 


242  MAMMY  ROSIE 

'*Hangman's-rope?"  inquired  ]^Iadame  To- 
peka. 

''Certainly.  It  was  taken  from  the  noose 
that  strangled  a  criminal  in  Rome." 

'Is  that  a  charm  ?" 

"The  very  luckiest  you  can  possess.  A 
friend  of  mine  paid  the  hangman  two  lire  for 
these  few  threads;  and  he  said  people  fairly 
fought  for  only  a  wisp,  it  is  held  in  such 
esteem." 

''Le'  me  touch  it,  too!"  Madame  Topeka's 
request  was  spoken  m^ore  in  earnest  than  in- jest. 

Rosie  started  up  excitedly  to  participate  in 
the  distribution  of  luck,  and  was  turning  the 
corner  of  the  screen  without  thought  of  her 
rash  action,  when  an  old  man,  hugging  a  bottle 
under  his  arm,  came  toward  her  tlirough  the 
archway.  She  drew  back  unseen  as  he  grasped 
a  screen-panel  and  let  himself  into  the  poker- 
room. 

"Oh,  thank  you  Leroux !"  exclaimed  Madame 
Topeka  feigning  surprise.  ''I  set  that  bottle 
down  in  the  hall  when  I  was  talking  to  Madam.e 
La  Farge  and  clean  forgot  it !  I  was  playing- 
cards   at  Mrs.   Miller's   this  afternoon,   and   she 


ROSIE  AT  THE  MAISON  LEROUX  243 

gave  me  this  as  I  had  to  go  without  dinner  to 
get  here." 

"How  singular!"  remarked  Madame  Leroux 
sarcastically.     "Our  special  brand!" 

"Yes,"  retorted  Madame  Topeka;  "I  told 
her  how  rave  it  was — that  any  one  stood  treat. 
That 's  why  she  got  it !" 

"Leroux,"  cried  his  spouse  angrily,  "take 
your  place !  The  chips  are  all  right — in  each 
pocket.  I  counted  them  before  dinner. 
Money!" 

"Dr.  Wyckoff — five  dollars;  Madame  Fou- 
lon — five  dollars  ;  Madame  Marceau — five  dol- 
lars ;  Madame  Topeka — five  dollars  ;  Monsieur 
Leroux — five  dollars  :  and  Madame  Leroux — 
five  dollars.    Jack  pot  to  open!    Put  up!" 

The  dog  yelped  as  the  chips  rained  upon  the 
table. 

"Viens,  Ninette !"  called  Mamma  Leroux. 
"Tais-toi !"  A  gentle  chastisement  was  greeted 
by  a  surprised  yawp ;  the  same  deft  hand  shot 
the  cards  around  the  table :  and  the  game  had 
begun. 


244  MAMMY  ROSIE 

IL— A  Full  House. 

'What  had  youf  shouted  Madame  Mar- 
ceau.     'What  had  yoiiT 

''Jags  npr  yelled  the  landlord  in  a  rage. 

"Qu'  est-ce  que  c'est  que  ces  manieres 
la?"  yelled  his  spouse  in  reproof. 

"Stop!  Show  your  hand!  That  is  no 
way  to  play!" 

Rosie  glanced  curiously  about,  and  was  ven- 
turing to  enter  the  principal  corridor  when  a 
door  at  the  farther  end  gave  a  warning  click 
and  a  ser\^ant  dashed  past  the  archway. 

The  heavy  curtains  closing  the  end  of  the 
improvised  passage  way  seemed  a  safer  goal ; 
but  upon  pulling  the  loose  end  aside,  she  barely 
saved  herself  from  a  sprawling  entrance  into 
the  reception  room,  in  her  surprise  at  sight  of 
Mrs.  Melrose  resplendent  in  a  brocaded  opera- 
cloak  and  dazzling  tiara.  ]\Irs.  ^lelrose  was 
leaning  over  a  table  examining  a  book  of 
prints,  so  near  that  Rosie  could  have  put  out 
her    hand    and    touched    her;     Virginia    w^as 


ROSIE  AT  THE  MAISON  LEROUX  245 

seated  near  a  front  window.  Fearing  to  attract 
attention,  Rosie  held  her  breath  as  she  heard 
Madame  Topeka  inquiring  in  a  resonant  voice 
for  Mr.  Rainey. 

"He 's  in  the  dining-room  with  his  step- 
daughter and  her  youHg  man,"  replied  Madame 
Leroux. 

"Thornton?" 

"Well,  you  could  hardly  call  the  only  other 
man  who  comes  to  see  her,  young." 

"Oh,  ho  !  So  that 's  the  way  the  wind  blows, 
is  it?    What's  his  name?" 

"Hugh  Melrose." 

Rosie  observed  that  Mrs.  Melrose's  eyes  were 
no  longer  studying  the  book;  but  Virginia 
seemed  not  to  hear. 

"Hugh  Melrose?"  Madame  Topeka  gave  a 
long,  low  whistle.  "Well,  she 's  in  luck.  So 
that 's  the  origin  of  her  fine  feathers.  I 
thought  there  was  a  nigger  in  the  wood-pile 
somewhere !" 

"Oh,  no !"  said  Madame  Leroux  hastily. 
"She  's  a  good  girl.    She  never  sees  him  alone." 

"Then  she  's  a  fool !"  said  Madame  Topeka. 
"Why  he  gave  Fannie  Lister  a  gorgeous  house 


246  MAMMY  ROSIE 

in  Eighty-sixth  Street.  She  had  her  own  car- 
riage, two  men  in  the  dining-room,  and  six 
months  abroad  every  year.  I  wish  he  'd  try  to 
see  me  alone.  I  'd  jump  at  him  so  quick  he  'd 
see  stars !" 

"^Mademoiselle  \^idalli  may  have  her  reasons 
— at  present,"  observed  ]\Iadame  Leroux.  ''I 
think  she  's  trying  to  catch  Thornton.  A  mar- 
riage in  that  S€t  would  be  so  much  better  for 
her  career." 

"That  is  n't  so  easy.  Half  the  girls  in  New 
York  are  trying  to  catch  Thornton.  He'll 
scoop  their  millions  and  she — the  old  yuan." 

"How  sweet  of  you !"  cried  Miss  Vidalli 
sweeping  into  the  reception-room  with  both 
hands  extended.  "You  look  pale,"  she  added, 
with  her  searching  eyes  on  J\Irs.  Melrose. 

"It  is  nothing  new."  Mrs.  IMelrose  spoke 
with  a  double  meaning  which  Rosie  under- 
stood. 

"Let  me  send  for  a  glass  of  cognac  or  some- 
thing strengthening,"  urged  the  singer 
solicitously. 

"Nothing,  thanks !"  replied  Mrs.  IMelrose 
as  they  sank  into  chairs  near  Virginia.     "We 


ROSIE  AT  THE  MAISON  LEROUX  247 

have  run  in  for  only  a  moraent,  on  our  way  to 
the  opera,  to  say  mi  revoir" 

"Aunt  Annie  might  add,"  laughed  Virginia, 
"that  we,  also,  came  early  because  we  wish  to 
say  we  have  heard  one  overture  this  season." 

"I  particularly  love  the  Vorspiel  to  'Lohen- 
grin,' which  they  are  giving  to-night,"  said  Mrs. 
Melrose.  "We  are  off  to-morrow,  quite  un- 
expectedly, for  Palm  Beach  and  Nassau,  to 
remain  a  month  or  more,  and  feared  you  might 
leave  before  our  return." 

"I  have  no  plans,  and — "  Miss  Vidalli  added 
disconsolately,  "no  engagements." 

"They  will  come,"  said  Virginia. 

"If  they  do  not,"  interposed  Mrs.  Melrose 
hastily,  as  if  making  an  unpremeditated  re- 
solve, "let  me  know.  You  must  have  your  two 
years  ,  in  Italy — somehow.  Good-bye,  my 
child,"  she  added,  rising  abruptly  and  regard- 
ing Miss  Vidalli  as  if  uncertain  what  to  say 
next.  "Write  me,  as  soon  as  you  have  any- 
thing to  tell  me.  Come  Virginia,  we  must 
hasten !" 

Rosie  drew  back,  seeing  them  face  toward 
her,  and  as  they  passed  into  the  corridor  she 


248  MAMMY  ROSIE 

heard  Papa  Leroux  cry  lustily,  "Ah,  ha! 
Miner 

An  avalanche  of  chips  rattled  in  a  table 
pocket  whilst  the  players  raised  an  uproar. 
"Stop !  Show  your  hand !  That 's  no  way  to 
play!" 

"It 's  mine !"  shouted  Leroux  resentfully. 

"Nobody  doubts  you,  you  sweet  sing!"  said 
Madame  Topeka  soothingly.  "Only  you  must 
show  your  hand  before  you  take  the  pot." 

"Sweet  sing !"  sneered  the  landlady  contemp- 
tuously. "Yes;  if  I  had  known  how  sweet  he 
was,  I  never  would  have  married  him." 

"What  had  you?"  shouted  Madame  Mar- 
ceau.    "What  had  you  ?" 

"Jags  upr  yelled  the  landlord  in  a  rage. 

"Qu'  est-ce  que  c'est  que  ces  mameres  laf* 
yelled  his  spouse  in  reproof. 

Ninette,  thinking  the  admonition  too  per- 
sonal, yawped  pathetically. 

"Old,  ma  belle  iille;  ma  cherie!"  murmured 
her  mistress  caressingly,  as  Madame  Marceau 
indignantly  proclaimed  her  opinion  of  Leroux. 

"Brute!    You  act  like  a  pig!" 

"Right    you    are,    Madame!    Right!    Xhe 


ROSIE  AT  THE  MAISON  LEROUX  249 

prize  pig!"  said  Madame  Leroux,  tapping  the 
table  in  approval. 

Inarticulate  mutterings  from  the  angry  land- 
lord set  the  party  into  a  gale  of  discordant 
laughter. 

''Say,  Leroux/'  cried  Madame  Topeka,  'T  'm 
dying  of  thirst.  Open  that  bottle  and  pass  a 
cheering  drop." 

'The  stingiest  people  I  ever  knew!"  said 
some  one  in  the  reception-room.  "They  be- 
grudge us  a  penny-worth  of  electricity  to  fin- 
ish our  cigars  in  peace." 

Rosie  cautiously  drew  the  curtain  aside  and 
'espied  Mr.  Rainey  and  Thornton  standing 
under  the  chandelier. 

"More  likely  they  want  you  in  the  game," 
suggested  Thornton. 

"Of  course;  that  much  more  money  in  the 
jack  pot.  Shrewd  old  cat  that  Shall  we  look 
in  on  them?" 

'T  '11  wait  here  for  Miss  Vidalli." 

"Only  for  a  minute,"  urged  Rainey,  leading 
him  to  the  curtain-end  farthest  from  Rosie. 
"You  '11  hear  Vida  come  in." 

The  old  darkey,  oblivious  to  the  dange-  of 


250  MAMMY  ROSIE 

detection,  immediately  sought  the  corner 
where  the  screen  joined  the  curtain,  and  gained 
a  full  view  of  the  poker-room. 

''Just  in  time,  Rainey,"  called  ]\Iadame 
Topeka,  waving  a  glass  of  amber  liquid  before 
his  eyes. 

"AVhisky  ?"  he  cried,  snatching  up  .  the  bot- 
tle and  filling  a  small  glass.  "Whisky?  Is 
it  a  dream?" 

"It  will  be,  unless  you  are  more  sparing." 

Thornton  declined  a  glass  w^hen  offered  to 
him,  and  Rainey,  commanding  the  table,  cried : 
"Here 's  to  the  mellowing  influence  which 
'enables  us  to  meet  our  losses  and  gains  wdth 
equal  fortitude !" 

"Are  you  in  the  jack  pot?"  inquired  ]\Iadame 
Leroux  as  the  glasses  were  drained  in  unison. 

"Certainly !"  he  replied,  at  an  affirmative 
nod  from  his  guest.  "Somebody  throw  me  in 
a  blue  chip." 

Thornton  sank  into  a  chair  by  the  curtain, 
w^here  he  could  hear  the  conversation  in  both 
rooms. 

Rosie  turned  aw^ay  with  the  purpose  of  in- 
quiring again  for  ]\Iiss  Vidalli,  w^hen  a  slight 


ROSIE  AT  THE  MAISON  LEROUX  251 

noise  at  the  front  door  and  the  rustle  of  silken 
skirts  furnished  excuse  for  one  more  survey 
of  the  outer  room. 

Alone  there  in  the  full  light  of  the  chandelier 
stood  Mrs.  Hampton- Yorke,  her  opera-cloak 
thrown  open  and  her  head,  neck  and  corsage 
blazing  with  magnificent  jewels.  An  expec- 
tant smile  flitted  across  her  face  as  the  outer 
door  closed  again  and  a  moment  later  Dick 
Wynne  appeared  in  the  archway  with  a  cheery 
greeting. 

''You  are  a  nice  man,"  she  exclaimed  in  mock 
severity,  "to  keep  a  lady  waiting  a  half-hour  at 
a  rendezvous !" 

"I  am  flattered  that  it  seemed  so  long  to 
you,"  said  Dick,  lifting  her  gloved  hand  to 
his  lips.  'T  saw  you  going  up  the  steps  when 
I  was  half  way  down  the  block." 

Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke  laughed  and  tapped 
him  on  the  shoulder  with  her  fan.  "I  hope 
Vida  won't  keep  us  waiting,  anyway;  I 
have  n't  seen  a  first  act  in  years.  In  fact  I  see 
no  reason  for  giving  it  at  all.  No  one  is  ever 
there  to  hear  it.    They  might  just  as  well  save 


252  MAMMY  ROSIE 

themselves  for  the  second  act  and  begin  at  nine 
o'clock.     Where  have  you  come  from?'' 

'The  Club.  Hugh  ^Melrose  was  dining  there, 
also,  and  offered  to  drive  me  down." 

''Where  was  he  going?    To  the  opera?'* 

"He  did  n't  say ;  but  I  strongly  suspect  he  's 
driving  around  town  to  gather  up  his  pajamas. 
He  's  off  for  Europe  in  the  morning!" 

''Good  heavens !"  ejaculated  Dick,  as  Mrs. 
Hampton- Yorke  succumbed  to  laughter.  "I 
promised  not  to  tell — don't  breathe  it  to  a  soul 
— will  you?  He  sails  by  the  'Landgraf  at  half- 
past  five  on  a  secret  mission  and  does  n't  want 
the  newspapers  to  get  hold  of  it." 

"A  secret  mission  ?"  repeated  ^Irs.  Hampton- 
Yorke  quizzically.  "I  wonder  w^hich  one  of 
his  harem  accompanies  him?" 

"This  is  an  unexpected  pleasure !"  exclaimed 
]\Iiss  Vidalli,  entering  the  room  and  breaking 
abruptly  into  their  badinage. 

"A  brief  one,  my  dear,"  ]\Irs.  Hampton-Yorke 
observed.  "I  decided  only  this  afternoon  to  go 
with  the  Melroses  in  their  private  car  to  Palm 
Beach  in  the  morning  and  came  in  for  a  second, 
fearing  you  might  be  off  before  my  return ;   but 


ROSIE  AT  THE  MAISON  LEROUX  253 

I  thought  I  RG»ver  would  get  here !  Yesterday,  I 
remarked  in  Anna  Parkinson's  presence  that 
young  Jack  Leigh  was  coming  in  for  tea  this 
afternoon.  What  did  she  do  but  invite  herself, 
come  early  and  stay  late ;  for  she  was  crazy  to 
meet  him  and  affix  him  to  her  list  of  adorers. 
You  see,  his  people  have  a  place  in  Scotland,  and 
she  is  taking  Parkinson  there  for  the  shooting  in 
August,  if  a  merciful  Providence  does  n't  claim 
him  in  the  meanwhile." 

"Perhaps  she  has  hopes  of  some  one  taking 
him  for  a  deer !"  suggested  Miss  Vidalli. 

"Because  of  his  horns?"  inquired  Dick 
quickly. 

"He  'd  be  the  patriarch  of  any  flock !"  cried 
Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke  appreciatively.  "That 
wom.an !  She  would  take  the  blue  ribbon  at 
the  Westchester  Fair!" 

"She  is  utterly  without  conscience,"  declared 
Dick  with  mock  gravity. 

"Conscience?"  said  Airs.  Hampton-Yorke. 
"Anna  Parkinson  without  conscience?  Indeed 
you  are  mistaken  ;  she  has  one  in  perfect  order; 
good  as  new ;   never  been  used !" 

"Come,  Dick !"  she  added,  rising  abruptly. 


254  MAMMY  ROSIE 

"The  Cooper  twins  will  never  forgive  me. 
They  are  sitting  in  the  back  of  my  box  waiting 
for  me." 

"Now,  my  dear,''  she  said,  as  the  trio  passed 
into  the  corridor,  "drop  me  a  line  that  we  may 
keep  in  touch." 

The  outer  door  clicked  and  I\Iiss  Vidalli 
stepped  immediately  into  the  broad  archway, 
a  new  and  tender  light  in  her  lovely  eyes  as  she 
smiled  expectantly  at  som.e  one  standing  under 
the  chandelier. 


III.— A  Royal  Flush. 

"/  fear  I  am  very  plebeian.  I  like  people 
for  what  they  are;  not  for  zi'hat  birth  or  for- 
tune has  made  them.  The  true  aristocrats 
are  those  zvho  naturally  gravitate  to  the  noble 
in  thought  and  deed,  and  to  whom  money  is 
merely  a  fitting  adjunct." — Vida  Vidalli. 

It  was  Thornton,  his  face  eloquent  with 
the  pent-up  longing  of  a  lifetime  that  now 
rose  from  his  heart  and  suffused  his  very 
being,    revealing    the    undivided,    unchanging 


ROSIE  AT  THE  MAISON  LEROUX  255 

affection  of  a  generous,  proud,  honest  nature 
that  knew  how  to  value  and  cherish  a  love  as 
great  as  its  own.  With  apparent  understand- 
ing and  appreciation  of  the  blessed  fortune 
awaiting  her,  the  beautiful  singer  walked 
straight  into  his  outstretched  arms  and  silently 
pressed  her  cheek  to  his.  No  words  were 
spoken :  speech  were  sacrilege  in  that  perfect 
union  of  souls.  They  both  loved  as  men  and 
women  love  but  once  in  life — no  matter  Vv'hat 
later  joys  may  bring.  The  faint  sound  of 
descending  footsteps  without  admonished  the 
lovers  of  caution ;  some  one  passed  the  door 
and  out  into  the  street. 

To  Rosie,  overcome  by  the  stirring  scene 
she  had  just  witnessed,  everything  disappeared 
in  darkness.  Then  she  took  courage  and 
looked  again. 

In  front  of  her,  where  she  could  have  touched 
Thornton  without  moving  a  step  forward,  he 
and  Vida  had  seated  themselves  on  a  narrow 
sofa  in  the  shadow  thrown  by  the  wing  of  the 
open  door. 

"Sweetheart !"  he  murmured  softly  as  he 
gazed   into   her   love-filled   eyes ;    and  by   the 


256  MAMMY  ROSIE 

ease  with  which,  the  next  moment,  he  changed 
the  subject,  Rosie  knew  that  the  kiss  under 
the  chandelier  had  not  been  their  first. 

"So  the  ]\Ielroses  are  going  to  Palm  Beach?" 

"I  fancy  on  account  of  ]\Irs.  ]Melrose.  She 
looked  pale  and  haggard,  dear  woman !" 

''The  New  York  pace!  Nowhere  in  the 
v/orld  does  one  work  as  hard  and  get  so  little 
in  return." 

"You  are  beginning  to  realise  that  ?" 

"Only  since  I  have  known  such  moments 
with  you,"  he  said,  tenderly  embracing  her. 

"Don't,"  she  whispered,  gently  releasing 
herself.  "Some  one  might  come  in."  Yet  she 
pressed  his  hand  to  her  cheek  before  she  let 
it  go. 

"Occupation  keeps  women  happy,"  she  con- 
tinued. "Mere  social  engagements  tend  to 
demoralise.  One  should  live  for  a  higher, 
nobler  purpose." 

"Many  in  our  world  do." 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Vidalli  thoughtfully,  "so 
many  that  it  is  unfair  to  include  them  with 
those  who  set  the  pace  for  society  and  give  it 
the  tone  which  offends  people  of  refined  and 


ROSIE  AT  THE  MAISON  LEROUX  257 

intellectual  tastes.  And  yet,  the  mere  thought 
of  being  of  it — anchored  to  it  for  life,  as  it 
were,  is  a  sort  of  spiritual  death  for  the  work- 
lover.  I  fear  I  am  very  plebeian.  I  like  people 
for  what  they  are;  not  for  what  birth  or  for- 
tune has  made  them.  The  true  aristocrats  are 
those  who  naturally  gravitate  to  the  noble  in 
thought  and  deed,  and  to  whom  money  is 
merely  a  fitting  adjunct.  The}^,  somehow,  are 
one  with  art  and  fill  my  heart.  Even  dear  old 
Scrub  Oak  had  its  gentle  folk. 

"Without  an  accent,  too!"  she  added  with  a 
roguish  smile. 

Thornton  gathered  her,  unprotesting,  in  his 
arms  and  held  her  cheek  to  his. 

"Yes,"  she  murmured  happily,  "they  creep 
into  my  thoughts  sometimes — when  I  see  a 
group  of  diamond-tiara'd  and  pearl-roped 
beauties  laughing  at  the  tipsy  efforts  of 
another  dinner  guest  to  balance  a  loose- 
tongued  Chinese  idol  on  his  knee  instead  of 
listening  to  the  inspired  voice  of  Madame 
Stella;  or,  when  Mrs.  Jerome  Mason  plants 
herself,  with  her  best  young  mian  and  any 
others  she  can  corral,  just  outside  the  music- 


258  MAMMY  ROSIE 

room  door  and  makes  more  noise  than  the 
accompaniments  to  the  songs.  The  dear  ]\Iel- 
roses  and  ]\Irs.  Hampton-Yorke  don't  permit 
such  antics  in  their  houses.  How  I  shall  miss 
them!" 

'They  will  soon  return." 

"I  may  be  gone." 

"Gone?"  said  Thornton,  drawing  away  to 
look  her  full  in  the  eyes. 

"To  Italy." 

"Oh,  Vida!    You  are  jesting!" 

"I  am  not,"  she  replied;  and  taking  his  head 
in  both  her  hands  she  kissed  him  again  and 
again  on  the  broAv. 

"Would  you  leave  me?" 

"I  will  return  to  you." 

"But  my  home  is  ready  for  you  nozuV 

"Now  and  forever,  I  hope." 

"Then  how  can  you  leave  it?" 

"My  career  claims  me  part  of  the  time." 

"No !    I  claim  you  all  the  timer 

"I  may  not  be  a  genius,"  replied  the  singer 
gravely,  "yet  Nature  has  gifted  me  with  some- 
thing which  is  just  as  much  the  property  of  the 
world — for  which  it  was  originally  created  and 


ROSIE  AT  THE  MAISON  LEROUX  259 

intended.  It  is  not  in  my  power  to  bestow  it 
upon  one  man."  She  smiled  and  caught  his 
face  again  in  her  hands.  ''Be  stoical;  and  let 
us  be  happy  when  we  may.  Life  is  not  all 
roses  and  sunshine." 

'That  is  why  I  want  you  always  with  me, 
to  protect  you  from  the  evil  in  it." 

"You  are  thinking  of  Mrs.  Parkinson.  Is 
any  wife  in  her  set  more  proof  against  her 
malice  than  I  am  now — should  she  choose  to 
transfer  it?" 

"Not  that  alone.  There  is  the  life  of  the 
theatre." 

"Which  is  like  any  other  profession.  I  go 
to  rehearsal;  do  my  part;  and  leave.  I  don't 
make  it  a  social  function — ever''' 

"Yet  the  life  has  all  the  intimacy  of— social 
acquaintances." 

Miss  Vidalli  laughed  and  looked  mischiev- 
ous.   "You  are  jealous,  Reg!" 

"How  can  I  help  it?" 

"Of  whom?" 

"Whom  but  your  operatic  sweethearts?" 
"Those  garlicky,  beery  creatures?"  exclaimed 
Miss  Vidalli  in  unfeigned  disgust. 


26o  MAMMY  ROSIE 

*'Some  are  gentlemen." 

"Who  prefer  being  courted — to  courting! 
Oh,  dear  Reg!  That  is  not  the  bad  side  of  the 
theatre !" 

"I  know  it,  Vida;  I  know  it!"  he  said  with 
decision.  ''And  that  is  why  I  can  not  have  you 
there !" 

Miss  Vidalli  drew  back  startled. 

"Dearest,  listen  to  me.  I  love  you  very 
much — so  much  that  life  without  you  now 
would  be — a  desert.  I  cannot  even  think 
of  it !" 

Clasped  in  each  others  arms,  his  lips  pressed 
to  hers,  material  thoughts  faded  into  blissful 
dreamland.  Vida  was  first  to  tear  herself 
slowly,  reluctantly  away  and  speak.  Her 
voice,  sweet  and  low,  trembled  with  the  un- 
utterable love  which  filled  her  soul.  "Before 
I  knew  you  my  life  was  music — all  music !  I 
felt  nothing  else,  I  thought  of  nothing  else: 
and  yet  something  was  lacking.  I  did  not 
know  it  then,  but  I  realise  it  now:  and  that — 
the  cro-v^Tiing  glory  of  a  great  undying  love ! 
You  have  sanctified  my  art ;  you  are  insepar- 
able from  it:    and  my  happiness  never  will  be 


ROSIE  AT  THE  MAISON  LEROUX  261 

complete    until    the    world    witness     its     over- 
powering glory  as  I  feel  it  in  my  heart." 

''Oh,  don't,  Vida!  You  know  how  I  love 
you !"  he  whispered,  drawing  her  nearer. 

"I  must— I  must!"  she  murmured.  "With 
all  my  love  for  you,  I  should  pine  away  and 
die — if  I  yielded — my  mission  unfulfilled! 
Give  me  time  to  prove  the  power  within  me. 
When  I  have  established  my  claim  to  great- 
ness and  made  the  world  acknowledge  it — I 
can  leave  it:  not  before.  It  is  my  birthright. 
I  must  prove  my  claim  !" 

"If  your  love  were  equal  to  mine,"  said 
Thornton  soberly,  "that  would  be  all-suffi- 
cient." 

"For  a  time — yes:  and  then — the  unsatis- 
fied longing  to  reach  the  pinnacle  toward 
which  my  whole  life  has  been  directed  would 
permeate  my  happiness  with  its  insidious 
poison  and — bring  misery  to  both  of  us.  Let 
me  first  prove  my  birthright !  That  is  the  price 
all  true  artists  pay  for  peace,  tranquillity  and — 
love!  Only  then  is  such  a  life  complete,  and 
only  then  can  it  bring  happiness  to  another." 
"You  think  so  now,  dearest,  because  you  do 


262  MAMMY  ROSIE 

not  know  the  happiness  of  home  in  its  truest 
sense!" 

"It  would  be  beautiful  at  breakfast,  and  bliss 
at  dinner:  but — how  about  bcfzi'cen  times  with 
you  down-town  all  day.  Oh,  Reg!"  The 
beautiful  singer  clasped  her  arms  over  her 
breast.  'To  be  simply  Mrs.  Thornton,  one  of 
the  hundred  and  fifty  eleef  of  New  York  Society, 
when  I  w'as  born  to  an  artistic  throne.  The 
queen  who  voluntarily  abdicates  may  be 
happy :  but  she  who  never  ascends  the  heredi- 
tary throne — never !" 

"Can  a  wife  desire  a  higher  throne  than  her 
husband's  heart?" 

"How  many  waves — in  your  own  set,  for  ex- 
ample— does  that  satisfy?" 

"It  must  satisfy  my  wife !" 

"Then  to  be  your  wife —  I  must  give  up  my 
artistic  career?" 

"Yes !  I  feel  like  a  brute  to  say  it :  but,  I 
know  the  world  far  better  than  }ou :  and  you  zcill 
be  happy !" 

"Why  Vida,  you  are  crying;'  he  murmured 
in  astonishment,  holding  her  against  his  heart. 
"Don't  sweetheart.    You  know  I  love  vou  better 


ROSIE  AT  THE  MAISON  LEROUX  263 

than  the  world  and  all  it  contains.    Don't  you?" 

''Yes ;  I  do." 

''Better  than  my  life!  Or  I  would  not  take 
such  a  stand." 

"All  life  is  a  sacrifice  to  something  or  of  some- 
body," she  whispered  sadly  to  herself. 

The  distant  report  of  the  door-bell  broke 
warningly  on  their  silence,  and  footsteps  ap- 
proached along  the  corridor.  Miss  Vidalli 
dried  her  eyes,  while  Thornton  arose  and  saun- 
tered across  the  room.  The  outer  door  opened 
and  a  muffled  voice  was  heard  inquiring  for 
Miss  Vidalli. 

The  lovers  regarded  each  other  despairing- 
ly. Thornton  glanced  toward  the  card-room. 
Miss  Vidalli  nodded  approvingly.  "I  will  call 
you  later,"  she  added  in  a  whisper  as  he  passed 
out. 

"Just  in  time !"  rose  Madame  Leroux's  greet- 
ing.   ''The  Doctor  is  going." 

"Is  his  second  stack  gone?"  queried  Madame 
Marceau. 

"Just  about,"  replied  the  astute  landlady. 

"One  dollar,  please,  Madame!"  said  Doctor 


264  MAAIMY  ROSIE 

Wyckoff,  tossing  his  remaining  chips  on  the 
table. 

"I  don't  think  I  '11  enter  the  game,"  mur- 
mured Thornton,  "I  've  only  a  m.oment." 

"Plenty  of  time  for  a  round  of  jacks,  my 
boy ;  sit  down !"  cried  Rainey. 

All  thought  of  the  ''Sally-Lunn"  and  of  the 
danger  of  loitering  unseen  and  unannounced 
in  hidden  corners  of  a  strange  house  had 
escaped  Rosie's  usually  attentive  mind.  The 
scene  between  the  lovers  had  been  to  her  a 
tragedy.  The  sound  of  voices  in  the  poker- 
room  and  the  sight  of  the  prima-donna  now 
standing  expectantly  near  the  table  ostensibly 
studying  the  evening  papers,  made  little  im- 
pression on  her  benumbed  senses.  She  felt  as 
if  she  should  die  and  was  wondering  why  she 
did  not,  when  a  servant  entered  bearing  a  card 
upon  a  silver  tray. 

I\Iiss  Vidalli  w^as  evidently  disturbed.  She 
looked  at  the  card-room  as  if  for  protection, 
and  then  turning  quickly,  gave  an  affirmative 
nod. 

Before  the  man  could  reach  the  corridor. 


ROSIE  AT  THE  MAISON  LEROUX  265 

Hugh  Melrose — the  tool  of  Mrs.  Parkinson — 
stepped  into  the  room. 

Certainly,  he  appeared  to  Rosie  in  no  other 
light,  and  she  felt  herself  ascending  rung  by 
rung  the  ladder  to  the  topmost  heaven  of  emo- 
tional delirium.  Little  cared  she  about  the 
motive  of  his  visit  so  long  as  he  proved  to  be 
the  saviour  of  Thornton  and,  indirectly,  of  her 
own  miserable  self. 

Mr.  Melrose  may  have  noticed  the  lack  of 
enthusiasm  in  his  reception,  for  he  said  ab- 
ruptly:  "I  regret  I  have  but  a  moment." 

"It  is  very  good  of  you  to  come.  Pray  be 
seated,"  murmured  the  singer. 

"Pardon  the  late  hour ;  but  I  am  off  early  in 
the  morning." 

"So  I  have  heard." 

Mr.  Melrose  looked  surprised  until  Miss 
Vidalli  added :  "Florida  must  be  delightful  just 
now." 

"I  feared  there  would  not  be  another  oppor- 
tunity of  seeing  you — ^before  you  sailed,"  he  said 
hastily. 

"I  am  not  sure  I  shall  be  able  to  go,"  re- 
plied Miss  Vidalli  dubiously. 


266  MAMMY  ROSIE 

*'But  I  am,"  interposed  the  great  financier 
handing  her  an  envelope ;  ''that  contains  the 
wherewithal  for  two  years.  3Jy  wife  was  not 
sure  of  finding  you,  so  begs  you  to  accept  it 
from  her.  Now  profit  to  the  utmost  by  your  stay 
in  Italy." 

"In  any  event—"  faltered  Miss  Vidalli; 
"how  can  I  ever  thank  you  and  Mrs.  Melrose?" 

"Don't — don't!"  he  exclaimed,  rising  to  his 
feet  in  protest. 

"But — I  don't  know  that  I  am  free  to — " 

"Not  a  word,  my  child;  or  I  shall  run. 
Write  Mrs.  Melrose  when  you  reach  the  other 
side.  We  shall  a^vait  impatiently  your  ap- 
pearance at  the  Metropolitan  Opera  House. 
Good-bye;  and  the  best  of  luck  go  with  you! 
And  always  be  assured  of  a  warm  welcome 
at  our  house  when  you  return !" 

As  the  outer  door  closed  upon  Mr.  Melrose, 
]\Iiss  Vidalli  stood  alone,  staring  vacantly  be- 
fore her. 

"A  royal  flush !"  cried  Madame  Leroux. 

The  party  suddenly  became  a  confusion  of 
tongues. 

"Four   rounds   of  jacks   for   j\Ir.   Thornton's 


ROSIE  AT  THE  MAISON  LEROUX  267 

royal  flush!"  loudly  proclaimed  the  delighted 
keeper  of  the  "kitty."    "Put  up !" 

Miss  Vidalli  looked  with  all  her  heart  in  her 
luminous  eyes  at  the  curtain,  then  at  the 
envelope. 

"I'll  help  'er!"  muttered  Rosie  with  a  sly 
wink;  and  stealthily  as  a  cat  she  slipped  out 
of  her  hiding-place  and  down  the  corridor  to 
the  reception-room.  She  found  Miss  Vidalli 
peering  into  the  envelope,  evidently  counting 
without  removing  the  contents.  Standing  on 
the  threshold  Rosie  held  aloft  her  precious  offer- 
ing. 

"Good-evenin',  Miss!"  she  said,  graciously 
dropping  a  curtsey.  "T  hopes  yoh 's  well? 
Yoh  is  n't  ben  to  see  us  fur  so  long  I  thought 
I  'd  bring  yoh  a  'Sally-Lunn'  an'  fine  out  how 
yoh  wuz." 

Miss  Vidalli  stared  in  amazement;  then  her 
eyes  filled  with  tears.  "Another  proof  of  affec- 
tion. I  have  more  friends  than  I  knew.  Really, 
Rosie,  you  make  it  hard  for  me  to  decide 
whether  I  am  a  prima-donna  or — simply  a 
woman   who   loves   home   and — "   she   looked 


268  MAMMY  ROSIE 

involuntarily  toward  the  card-room— "her 
friends." 

"May  be  yoh  is  bof,  T^Iiss,  'ceptin'  dat  de 
uddeh  ladies  is  n't  got  yoh  grand  voice.  Now 
dere  wuz  ]\Iiss  Jinny  ]\Ielrose  whut  de  young 
masteh  loved  too  much  tell  dat  conce't  fur  de 
little  boys ;  but  when  'e  hea'd  yoh — well  I  I 
guess  dat  's  why  de  fambly  's  goin'  to  Florida 
— fur  her  health."  Rosie  winked  confidentially. 
Then,  continuing:  ''She's  like  de  muddeh 
Vvhut  wuz  n't  strong  an'  died  young  'cause  she 
loved  somebody  else." 

"j\Iy  Gawd  !"  reflected  Rosie.  ''Dat 's  de  beauti- 
fulest  parable  !  She  's  tuhnin'  green !  I  guess 
she  '11  keep  dat  money  now !" 

Tears  were  coursing  dowm  ]\Iiss  Vidalli's 
face,  and  still  she  gazed,  open-eyed,  full  at 
Rosie. 

"]\Iy  Lawd,  ]\Iiss !  I  hopes  I  is  n't  made  yoh 
feel  bad,  'cause  yoh  know  eberybody  lubs  so  to 
heah  yoh  sing  an'  yoh  makes  'em  so  happy  dey 
could  n't  git  on  wddout  yoh.  Yoh  '11  think  I 's 
a  crazy  ole  niggeh  to  tell  yoh  'bout  ouh  fambly 
mattehs,  but  et  's  all  oveh  now  an'  dey  is  n't 
no  good  keepin'  et." 


ROSIE  AT  THE  MAISON  LEROUX  269 

"Rosie,"  said  Miss  Vidalli  trying  to  smile, 
"you  were  right.  I  'm  a  woman  if  I  am  a 
prima-donna ;  but — the  prima-donna  is  going 
to  Europe  and  the  woman  is  crying  because 
she  loves  her  friends  and  may  never  see  them 
again." 

"Please  don't  say  dat,  Miss.  Ef  yoh  lubs 
'em,  yoh  '11  come  back." 

"Some  day — perhaps." 

"An' — er — is  yoh  goin'  so  soon,  Miss?" 

Miss  Vidalli  looked  at  her  envelope,  at  Rosie 
again  and  then  at  the  envelope.  "Yes,"  she 
answered  softly ;  and  stepping  to  the  table  she 
began  to  scan  the  newspaper  columns.  "Yes; 
sooner  than  I  thought.  By  the  'Landgraf  at  half- 
past  five  in  the  morning.  I  am  going  aboard  to- 
night." 

"Rosie,"  she  said  with  a  searching  glance, 
"will  you  promise  me  not  to  speak  of  it  ?  I  don't 
wish  any  one  there  to  see  me  ofif." 

"Oh,  o'  co'se  not,  Miss  !  Nobody  knows  I 's 
ben  heah,  anyway." 

Miss  Vidalli  touched  an  electric  button,  and 
seating  herself  at  a  desk,  was  writing  rapidly^ 


270  MAMIMY  ROSIE 

when  a  servant  entered  the  room  and  ap- 
proached. 

"Don't  fail  to  give  this  to  Mr.  Thornton 
when  he  finishes  his  game  in  there,"  she  said, 
enclosing  the  letter  and  sealing  it.  "Should  he 
ask  to  see  me,  say  I  have  gone  out.  Do  you 
understand?" 

"Yes,  Mademoiselle." 

"Telephone  Sherrill  to  have  a  closed  cab  at 
the  other  door  in  fifteen  minutes.  Then  come 
straight  to  me.  I  have  some  commissions  for 
you." 

"Yes,  Mademoiselle." 

"Can't  I  help  yoh,  Miss?"  Rosie  repeated  her 
first  words  of  genuine  sympathy :  "Can't  I  help 
you?"  with  sudden  comprehension  of  the  heroic 
action  she  had  witnessed  and  of  a  superior  quality 
in  the  singer's  nature. 

"You  have  helped  me  already — more  than 
you  know." 

Miss  Vidalli  stepped  impulsively  toward 
the  card-room,  lifted  her  hand,  hesitated  and 
without  touching  the  curtain,  suddenly  turned 
and  came  back  to  the  desk.  She  was  very  pale 
and  her  eyes  were  quite  dry. 


ROSIE  AT  THE  MAISON  LEROUX  271 

"I  shall  carry  this  with  me/'  she  said,  taking 
up  the  "Sally-Lunn,"  "and  with  it  many  happy 
memories  of  the  little  home  up-town.  Good- 
bye." 

In  sudden  contrition  Rosie  bent  to  kiss  the 
singer's  hand;    but  when  she  raised  her  eyes 
for  a  last  look  at  the  lovely  face,  they  were 
blinded  by  tears.    Then  she  heard  a  soft  mur- 
mur:   ''Care  for  him  tenderly— for  my  sake." 
The    old    mammy  hurried    down    the    corridor, 
feeling  more  like  a  culprit  than  a  victor.    Duly 
the  best  interests  of  her  beloved  young  master  jus- 
tified her  duplicity;    and  the  consciousness  that 
Miss   Vidalli   would   never   tell   of  it   went    far 
toward  lightening  her  spirit  when  she  found  her- 
self once  more  in  the  vicinity  of  the  poker  players. 
''Oh,    my;     what    a    pig   hand!"    exclaimed 
Madame  Foulon. 

"Four  rounds  more  for  Mr.  Thornton's  four 
aces!"  cried  the  happy  mistress  of  the  ''kitty." 

''Lucky  at  cards,   unlucky  in   love,"   repeated 
Madame  Topeka.    "Really,  Mr.  Thornton,  you 
are  an  exception  to  the  rule.     I  hear  all  the 
girls  in  New  York  are  trying  to  marry  you." 
"One  would  suffice." 


272  MAMMY  ROSIE 

''Oh !  It 's  evident  you  're  not  a  born  New 
Yorker!" 

"I  vote  here." 

"That  does  n't  affect  your  morals." 

"Some  people  are  more  susceptible  than 
others." 

"Did  you  hear  that,  'Aladame  Ninon  d'Enclos'  ? 
Now  don't  look  coy." 

"Oh,  I  peg  bardon,"  simpered  the  aged  bride. 
"I  sought  you  mean  Madame  iMarceau." 

"How  could  you?"  cried  the  irate  French- 
woman. "I  never  try  to  appear  younger  than 
I  am;  though  I  may  have  reason  to — when  I, 
also,  am  scventy-Uve!" 

"Oh !  Oh !  I  tid  not  know  you  are  zat 
young  r 

"Here,  here,  children ;  put  up !"  ^ladame 
Leroux  rapped  authoritatively  and  joined  the 
general  laugh,  above  which  rose  a  spiteful  cry  of 
"Cat!" 

Thornton  appeared  restless  and  gave  but 
perfunctory  attention  to  the  game,  tipping  his 
head  to  one  side  expectantly  and  occasionally 
turning  to  glance  furtively  toward  the  recep- 
tion-room. 


ROSIE  AT  THE  MAISON  LEROUX  273 

''Poll  chile !"  murmured  Rosie  in  mournful 
perplexity.  "He  '11  be  so  onhappy;  but  I  guess 
dey  is  n't  nobody  whut  does  n't  know  whut  's 
best  fur  'im." 

"Leave  me  out  this  time,  please !"  And 
Thornton,  rising,  slipped  through  the  curtain 
into  the  reception-room. 

Rosie  immediately  changed  her  point  of  view 
and  saw  him  cross  the  room  and  press  an  elec- 
tric button. 

"Have  you  seen  Miss  Vidalli,  Frangois?"  he 
inquired  of  the  servant  who  answered  the  bell. 

"Yes,  sir;  and  she  asked  me  to  give  you 
this." 

Thornton  waited  until  he  was  alone  and  ner- 
vously opened  the  letter ;  while  Rosie,  leaning 
breathlessly  forward  in  apprehension  of  some 
extraordinary  outbreak,  saw  to  her  amazement 
and  relief  that  he  read  the  letter  quietly  to  the 
end. 

"All  life  is  a  sacrifice  to  something  or  of  some- 
body T  he  repeated  emphatically,  recalling 
Vida's  spoken  words.  Crossing  the  room  he 
again  touched  the  electric  call  and  waited  there 


274  MAMAIY  ROSIE 

until  Frangois  reappeared.  ''Has  ^liss  Vidalli 
gone  out  yet?" 

''Yes,  sir;    fifteen  minutes  ago." 

Tiiornton  hesitated  as  if  to  question  him 
further,  but  finally  said  quietly,  "Thank  you,'' 
and  stood  watching  the  man  out  of  the  room. 
When  he  placed  the  letter  in  his  pocket  Rosie 
noticed  that  he  was  deadly  pale.  He  remained 
a  moment  immovable  as  if  dazed;  then  turned, 
started  for  the  card-room  and  stopped  short. 
At  his  feet  lay  a  man's  visiting-card. 

Thornton  stooped  to  pick  it  up,  recoiled  and 
grasped  the  chair-back  for  support.  "Hugh 
Melrose !'" 

Rosie  could  see  his  lips  frame  the  words 
and  then  she  noticed  that  his  face  seemed  sud- 
denly older  as  he  turned  a  startled  glance 
toward  the  division  curtain.  With  a  hasty 
movement  he  reached  for  the  card  and  tearing 
it  into  fragments  dropped  them  in  the  scrap 
basket.  Taking  the  letter  from  his  pocket,  he 
re-read  it  slowly  and  holding  it  an  instant  to  a 
gas  jet,  dropped  it  in  the  empty  grate  and  with 
bowed*  head  watched  the  final  clue  to  ]\Iiss 
A^idalli's  fancied  perfidy  reduced  to  ashes. 


ROSIE  AT  THE  MAISON  LEROUX  275 

Thornton  had  begun  life  anew  when  he 
looked  up  and  bravely  returned  with  resolute 
step  to  the  card-room. 

"Madame/'  he  said  gently  to  the  landlady, 
'T  am  obliged  to  leave  you  now ;  please  put  my 
chips  in  the  'kitty.'  " 

Rosie  waited  to  hear  no  more.  Out  of  the 
house  she  stole,  swiftly,  triumphantly  and, 
yet,  an  unconscious,  meaningless  laugh  died  in 
a  great  sob  as  her  black,  tear-stained  face  faded 
into  the  wmtry  night. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

ROSIE  BARGAINS  FOR  A  HALO. 


*^So  my  speret  said  to  myself,  'Does  yoh  want 
to  weak  a  hello  in  Hehhen,  Roxanaf 

'''Yes,  Madam,'  says  I,  'de  best  whut  dey  is. 
.    .     .     Whtit  shall  I  do.  Madam  f 

"  'Gawd  knows/  says  she.  'Yoh  's  got  yoh  own 
head,  an'  I  guess  ef  yoh  zmnts  a  hello  onto  et  right 
bad  yoh  'II  learn  how  to  think  wid  et.' " 


277 


CHAPTER  XII. 

ROSIE  BARGAINS  FOR  A  HALO. 

Rarely  is  any  one  missed  in  the  life  of  the 
great  metropolis.  Men  and  women  arrive  and 
depart  like  the  fashions  and  the  seasons,  each 
fulfilling  a  mission  in  his  or  her  time.  Then 
the  social  tide  rises  over  them  and  the  world 
knows  them  no  more. 

Miss  Vidalli  in  her  turn,  sank  out  of  sight, 
unsought,  unmourned  and  finally  unmen- 
tioned,  not  through  fault  of  her  personality  or 
her  gifts,  but,  because  of  New  York. 

How  much  or  how  little  Thornton  missed 
her  was  a  matter  of  conjecture  only  to  those 
who  knew  of  his  infatuation.  He  returned  to 
his  old  haunts  and  his  routine-duties  with  the 
outward  indifference  of  the  schooled  man  of 
the  world. 

279 


28o  MAIMMY  ROSIE 

Rosie,  however,  was  forced  to  recognise  the 
void  which  had  come  into  his  life.  She  ob- 
served, the  morning  following  her  visit  to  the 
Maison  Leroux,  that  Thornton  appeared  very 
listless  and  responded  to  her  solicitude  for  his 
health  and  his  comfort  with  unusual  gentle- 
ness, as  if  grateful  for  any  evidence  wdiatsoever 
of  affection  and  fidelity.  That  his  heart  was 
sore,  she  knew,  for  he  had  not  only  to  endure 
the  eternal  separation  from  the  w^oman  he 
loved,  but  the  galling  belief  that  she  had 
ignominiously  used  him  as  a  means  to  an  un- 
worthy end — that  she  had  fled  with  Hugh  Mel- 
rose. 

But  he  was  too  proud  to  mention  or  even 
acknowledge  it.  He  had  been  deceived  and — 
there  it  ended. 

Divining  his  attitude  of  mind,  Rosie's  ad- 
justable philosophy  enabled  her  to  maintain 
silence  as  to  the  truth  about  the  singer's  de- 
parture, in  view  of  the  advantage  which,  to  her 
mind,  was  thereby  given  to  Thornton,  She 
knew  that  nothing  was  lasting,  that  emotions 
died  of  their  ow^n  fever  and,  above  all,  that 
propinquity  kept  love  alive :    and  she  figured 


ROSIE  BARGAINS  FOR  A  HALO     281 

that  being  a  man  and  consequently  fickle,  his 
interests  in  life  would  revive  about  the  time  of 
\^irginia's  return  from  the  South.  Yet  when, 
sometimes,  the  loving  old  soul  came  upon  him 
unawares,  through  the  months  which  followed, 
she  had  to  admit  to  herself  that,  for  once,  her 
reckoning  might  be  wrong.  His  laughter 
though  cheery  as  of  old,  and  as  easily  aroused, 
ended  abruptly,  its  echoes  lost  in  the  dream- 
world where  dwelt  heart  and  mind — a  world 
to  which  Rosie  could  never  penetrate. 

The  old  darkey  did  a  deal  of  thinking  in 
those  days,  more  than  she  had  ever  done  in  all 
her  previous  existence;  for  Thornton's 
habitual  preoccupation  threw  her  out  of  touch 
with  his  intimate  social  life,  especially  as  he 
seemed  to  have  lost  all  desire  to  entertain  his 
friends  at  his  home. 

One  day  in  a  fit  of  desperation  she  bought  a 
copy  of  The  Social  Shotgun  and  took  it  to 
Miss  Driscoll — or  rather,  Airs.  Zander,  for  an 
increase  of  artistic  fame  and  funds  had  enabled 
the  little  portrait  painter  to  take  a  larger  studio 
and  a  husband.  By  the  following  week,  the 
name  Zander  appeared  upon  the  mailing  list 


282  MAMMY  ROSIE 

and  Rosie  had  become  a  paid-up  subscriber  to 
The  Social  Shotgun. 

Again  in  touch  with  "Sassiety,"  thanks  to 
this  reHable  source  of  information,  and  fortified 
by  unswerving  fidehty  to  her  cause,  Rosie  re- 
newed her  campaign  as  match-maker  with 
patient  comprehension  of  her  task.  Semi- 
weekly  visits  to  A^irginia  appearing  ineffective 
after  a  time,  she  diplomatically  enlisted  the 
sympathy  of  ]\Irs.  Hampton-Yorke,  who  ob- 
ligingly employed  every  means  of  throwing 
the  young  people  together:  for  in  her  pique  at 
Thornton's  defection,  Virginia  naturally 
awaited  his  initiative  before  resuming  their 
former  relations. 

An  invitation  for  her  young  master  and  her- 
self to  Villa  ^lelrose  in  August  attested  the 
success  of  the  old  mammy's  efforts.  Still,  that 
was  only  one  step. 

The  winter  season  brought  a  revival  of  the 
small,  intimate  luncheons  and  dinners  at  the 
apartment.  August  came  again  and  with  it 
the  annual  visit  to  Newport;  and  Thornton 
seemed  to  have  settled  down  as  family-friend 
to  the  !^Ielroses — of  the  sort  that  grows  bald- 


ROSIE  BARGAINS  FOR  A  HALO     283 

headed  in  service  and  dying  is  covered  by  ex- 
pensive flowers  and  besprinkled  by  Platonic 
tears. 

Rosie  was  hopelessly  perplexed.  She  was 
not  unhappy,  but,  in  so  far  as  it  was  possible 
for  any  darkey  to  realise  it,  she  was  conscious 
of  growing  old,  and  in  her  desire  to  see  the  ful- 
filment of  her  fondest  wish,  she  resolved  to 
make  it  a  subject  of  extra  and  special  prayer. 

One  morning  in  early  June,  she  entered  Mrs. 
Driscoll-Zander's  studio  in  a  state  of  sup- 
pressed excitement.  She  closed  the  door  care- 
fully and  looked  behind  all  the  easel-pictures. 
Mr.  Driscoll-Zander  was  not  visible.  The  un- 
successful member  of  the  family,  he  was  tend- 
ing the  baby  in  the  other  room. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  inquired  Mrs.  Zander, 
ready  to  laugh  before  she  heard  the  story. 

"Lots !"  said  Rosie  mysteriously.  "Does 
yoh  mind  dat  picture  o'  me  whut  yoh  made 
fur  myself?    Et  's  alive!" 

"With  what?"  said  Mrs.  Zander,  apprehend- 
ing some  pest. 

"Sperets !"  whispered  the  old  darkey  rever- 
ently.    "Dey    done    got    into    de    thing    dis 


284  MA^DIY  ROSIE 

mawnin' !  I  wuz  down  on  .ny  knees  a-sayin' 
my  beads  fur  de  young  masteh  an'  ^liss  Jinny, 
wid  one  eye  on  de  A^irgin  an'  de  uddeli  on 
myself  oveh  de  bed,  jes'  as  I  always  does  when 
I 's  prayin' ;  an'  all  to  oncet  de  tw^o  eyes  in  my 
picture  tuhned  an'  looked  dow^n  straight  into 
de  two  eyes  in  myself.  I  w^uz  so  scared,  I 
mos'  fell  undeh  de  bed ;  but  I  could  n't  git 
way  fum  dem  eyes.  Dey  wanted  to  say  some- 
pin'  to  me ;  an'  pretty  soon  de  lips  begin  to 
move  like  I  in  de  picture  wanted  to  tell  my 
real  self  somepin' ;  an'  I  could  heah  'em  say, 
'Roxana!' 

"  'Yes,  !\Iadam,'  I  says  soft-like ;  fur,  I 
knowed  it  wmz  my  speret  an'  not  me,  an'  yoh  's 
got  to  be  powe'ful  p'lite  to  sperets  ur  dey  treats 
yoh  scand'lous. 

''  'Roxana,  yoh  heart 's  white  now  ef  yoh  skin 
is  black,  an'  yoh  's  goin'  to  be  washed  w^hite 
all  oveh  in  Hebben,  too,  'cause  yoh  's  ben  good, 
an'  decent,  an'  clean;  but  't ain't  'nough  jes'  to 
have  yoh  skin  zvJiitc:  de  mos'  ob  'em  up  dere 
is  jes'  dat  way  an'  dey  isn't  nothin'  moh;  but 
dey  is  folks  whut  is!  An'  ef  I  knows  yoh,  I 
guess  yoh  wants  to  be  one  o'  dem  kind.    Yoh  's 


ROSIE  BARGAINS  FOR  A  HALO    285 

thunk  all  yoh  life  an'  pervided  ahead.  Yoh 
tnk  care  ob  de  young  masteh  whut  had  con- 
sumption tell  'e  died  an'  yoh  got  yoh  freedom 
fur  et;  yoh  wohked  an'  stahved  an'  saved  tell 
yoh  had  'nough  to  buy  a  first-class  buryin'  an'  a 
cross  fur  yoh  grave  ;  an'  den  a  good  angel  painted 
yoh  fur  yoh  fambly  when  yoh  's  dead  an'  yoh 
tuk  yoh  ha'd  ea'ned  money  to  git  a  grand  gold 
frame  to  keep  me  in.  Yoh 's  did  jes'  'nough 
already  to  ea'n  a  white  robe  made  out  ob  a 
cloud  an'  git  in  at  de  gate  wid  de  crowd :  fur 
yoh  shroud  won't  do,  an'  yoh  can't  take  dem 
beautiful  white  silk  nightgowns  whut  de 
queen  mos'  woh  out  an'  gib  yoh,  wid  yoh.' 

"  'Now  de  bes'  folks  whut 's  up  dere  an'  is  did 
de  mos'  good,  is  got  to  weah  'hellos'  so  de 
crowd  won't  bow  down  befoh  de  wrong  ones.' " 

''Helios?"  said  Mrs.  Zander,  interrupting 
the  narrative. 

"Yes,  hellos  whut  yoh  weahs  on  yoh  head 
like  de  great  royalties  in  de  boxes  at  de 
operay." 

"Oh,  you  mean  a  haloT 

"Yes,  dat's  et;  a  hello!  Some  ob  'em's  jes' 
a  teenty-weenty  line;    an'  some  ob  *em 's  got 


286  MAMMY  ROSIE 

two  ur  three  lines ;  an'  de  grand  ones  is  got  a 
big  gold  band,  jes'  like  yoh  sees  'em  in  de  pic- 
tures. So  my  speret  said  to  myself,  'Does  yoh 
want  to  weah  a  hello  in  Hebben,  Roxana?' 

"  'Yes,  ]\Iadam,'  says  I,  Me  bes'  whut  dey  is !' 

"'Den,'  says  she,  'j'ine  up  de  young  masteh 
quick  \vid  ]\Iiss  Jinny  ur  nobody  won't  live  to 
see  et ;  an'  Gawd  knows  whut  '11  become  ob 
'im,  an'  et  '11  be  yoh  fault ;  an'  when  yoh  ax 
at  de  gate  o'  Hebben  fur  a  hello,  dey  '11  tell  yoh 
dey  's  out  ob  'em.' 

"So  I  says,  'Whut  shall  I  do,  :\Iadam?' 

"  'Gaw' d  knows !'  says  she.  'Yoh  's  got  yoh 
own  head,  an'  I  guess  ef  yoh  wants  a  hello  onto 
et  right  bad  yoh  '11  learn  how  to  think  wid  et.' 

"So  I  says,  'An  whut  kind  ob  a  hello  will  dat 
buy  me,  Madam  ?' 

"'A  big  gold  one,'  says  she,  'jes'  like  dis !' 
An'  will  yoh  bilieve  et?  De  head  begin  to 
nod,  an'  de  two  eyes  to  wink,  an'  de  frame  come 
off  de  wall  an'  off  de  picture  straight  at  me, 
a-lookin'  jes'  like  a  big  gold  hello. 

"Well !  I  w^uz  so  'fraid  et  would  fly  de  mark 
an'  hit  me  in  de  head.  I  fainted  clean  'way. 
An'  when  I  come  to,  I  wuz  sprawdin'  on  de  bed, 


ROSIE  BARGAINS  FOR  A  HALO    287 

an*  my  heart  goin'  like  a  inglne.  An'  dere  on 
de  wall  wuz  de  frame;  an'  de  picture  wuz 
smilin'  at  me ;  an'  when  I  got  up,  de  eyes  fol- 
lowed me  all  'roun'  de  room  an'  to  de  doh,  fur 
I  looked  back  to  see. 

'Well/'  continued  Rosie,  "I  needed  a  cup  o' 
tea,  by  dat  time ;  an'  while  I  wuz  drinkin'  et, 
de  grace  o'  Gawd  p'inted  out  de  way,  an'  Miss, 
I  guess  et 's  in  dis  book,  fur  de  honey  chile 
keeps  it  on  'is  writin'-desk  to  look  in,  when  'e 
wants  to  know  whur  folks  lives." 

Producing  The  Social  Register  from  a 
capacious  pocket  she  handed  it  to  Mrs. 
Zander. 

"Whom  do  you  wish?'  inquired  the  artist. 

"Miss  Parkinson,  ef  yoh  please." 

'1  thought  you  didn't  like  her?"  said  Mrs. 
Zander,  copying  the  address  on  a  slip  of  paper. 

"I  does  n't ;  I  does  n't  ^ prove  ob  'er  a  bit ; 
but  dat  ain't  nothin'  when  yoh  needs  folks  to 
help  yoh.  My  Lawd !  I 's  goin'  to  make  'er 
a  'Sally-Lunn,'  like  I  wuz  'er  bes'  fren.  'Deed  I 
is!  She  writes  fur  de  Shotgun;  I  hea'd  de 
queen  tell  Mi'ss  Dalalli  so — poh  debbil !  I 
wondeh    ef    she^s  dead    yit    ur    jes'    a-breakin' 


«88  MAMMY  ROSIE 

hearts  wid  'er  grand  voice?  My  Lawd, 
couldn't  she  sing!  Well!  She's  kep'  out  ob 
de  way  pretty  well :  so,  I  guess  dey  wuz  some 
good  in  'er  afteh  all.  Yes,  I 's  goin'  to  ^liss 
Parkinson.  Gawd  knows  whut  I  '11  say :  I 
does  n't.  I  '11  scraggle  out  somepin'  widout 
sayin',  Shofgiiu,  an'  I  guess  she  '11  undehstan'." 

''Rosie"  was  a  magic  password  to  any  of 
Thornton's  social  circle.  Consequently  she  had 
no  trouble  in  penetrating  to  ^Irs.  Parkinson's 
boudoir  the  following  day. 

''Good-mawnin',  ]\Iiss,"  began  the  old  darkey 
with  a  respectful  curtsey.  "  'Deed,  ]\Iadam,  I 
hopes  yoh  '11  'scuse  me ;  but  yoh  looks  so 
young  I  always  thinks  ob  yoh  as  MissJ' 

"Thank  you,  Rosie;  I  wish  I  could  delude 
myself  into  that  way  of  thinking;  but  the 
tailor  always  knows  just  where  the  old  gar- 
ment is  darned  and  patched." 

"I 's  ben  a  fine  seamstress,  Aliss,  an'  I  can 
see  patches  mighty  good  yit,  ef  my  eyes  is  gib 
out ;  but  de  good  Lawd  'isself  could  n't  see 
none  on  yoh." 

Rosie  wished  Fritz  could  have  been  there 


ROSIE  BARGAINS  FOR  A  HALO    289 

that  she  might  express  her  amusement  in  a 
backward  kick. 

*'I  wonder  what  the  okl  devil  wants?"  re- 
flected Mrs.  Parkinson ;  but  she  said  aloud, 
"I  have  been  living  very  quietly." 

''Yes,  jMiss,  we  's  missed  yoh  so  much  at  ouh 
house ;  so  I  made  a  'Sally-Lunn'  an'  brung  et 
roun'  to  ask  yoh  how  yoh  wuz  feelin',  'cause 
I  thought  yoh  'd  like  et  wid  yoh  tea  dis  afteh- 
noon;"  and  Rosie  uncovered  an  example  of 
her  finest  baking. 

"How  sweet !  Of  course  I  shall ;  and  enjoy 
it  doubly  because  of  your  kind  thought,"  said 
Mrs.  Parkinson,  graciously  accepting  the  gift. 
"It  has  been  very  lonely  since  my  dear  hus- 
band's death."  The  widow's  voice  trembled, 
and  she  touched  a  dainty  black-bordered  hand- 
kerchief to  her  eyes  as  she  glanced  at  a  pho- 
tograph on  her  writing-desk. 

"Yes,  Miss,  I  undehstan' ;  but  I  guess  de 
ladies  whut  does  n't  git  any  husbands  't  all,  is 
de  mos'  lonelies' ;  an'  de  men,  too.  Now, 
dere  's  my  young  masteh,  de  lublies'  man 
whut  is " 

"You  make  him  too  comfortrible,  Rosie." 


290  MAMMY  ROSIE 

''No,  Miss,  't  ain't  dat.     He  's  too  bashful. 
He  wants  helpin'  on." 

]\Irs.  Parkinson's  sudden  outburst  of  hilarity 
ill  accorded  with  her  billows  of  formal  grief. 

''Not  he !"  cried  the  widow  spasmodically. 
'Try  somebody  else." 

""Deed,  INIiss,  I  b'lieves  et!  Et 's  ben 
hangin'  on  so  long  ;   an' " 

"You  m.ean  Miss  ^lelrose." 

"Well,  Miss,  I  won't  jes'  say  dat,  fur  dey 
might  n't  like  et ;  but  sometimes  when  de 
frens  knows  et — dcy  's  7vays  ob  helpin'  'cm  to  say 
et!  Now  dere  wuz  Miss  Kitty  Simpson  down 
in  Washin'ton  whut  knowed  Mr.  Cobb  loved 
'er  an'  did  n't  know^  how^  to  say  et.  She  tried 
an'  she  tried  wid  'im ;  but  'e — couldn't!  So 
she  thought  she  'd  fix  'im.  She  knowed  a  man 
wid  a  wife  an'  nine  chillun  an'  one  on  de  way 
whut  wuz  writin'  fur  de  papehs  an'  needed 
moh  money  'an  dey  could  git.  So  she  paid  'im 
good — fur  she  wuz  rich — to  rumour  her  an' 
Mr.  Cobb  in  de  papehs.  Well!  Dey  didn't 
gib  deir  names  at  fust,  but  eberybody  knowed 
who  dey  meant ;  an'  den  dey  did.  ^Ir.  Cobb 
went  'roun'  de  whole  time  lookin'  like  a  lob- 


ROSIE  BARGAINS  FOR  A  HALO     291 

ster,  'e  wtiz  so  'shamed  o'  'isself;    but,  some- 
how, 'e  could  n't  say  et  yit. 

"One  day  dey  wuz  settin'  in  de  pahlah— him 
an'  her— an'  de  doh-bell  ringed;  an'  de  butleh 
brung  in  a  papeh,  all  wrapped,  wid  a  blue  mark 
onto  et.  Miss  Kitty  knowed  whut  et  wuz,  fur 
she  paid  de  papeh-man  extra  to  do  et.  Dey 
wuz  settin'  on  de  sofa — on  de  two  ends.  So 
Miss  Kitty  moved  up  to  de  middle  an'  says, 
'I  wondeh  whut  dat  is.  Le'  's  see !  So  Mr. 
Cobb  moved  up,  too ;  an'  dey  read  it  togeddeh. 
Jes'  den,  ole  miss  called  de  butleh  an'  'e  had 
to  go;  so  I  didn't  heah  whut  Mr.  Cobb  said: 
but  dey  got  married  mighty  quick.  Miss,  an' 
had  lots  0'  chillun. 

"Now,  ef  I  knowed  somebody  like  dat  papeh- 
man,  I  'd  go  to  'em  too  quick  fur  de  young  mas- 
teh's  sake ;  fur,  'e  '11  neveh  git  married  by  'is- 
self;  an'  I  wants  to  git  de  deah  chile  settled 
befoh  I  gits  ole.  Well!  Mebbe  de  good 
Lawd'll  help  me  somehow;  fur  a  black  cat 
run  afteh  me  as  I  come  down  de  street— dca/^ 
lip  to  dis  doh!    Dat 's  shuh  luck !" 

"Then  you  '11  get  your  wish,"  laughed  Mrs. 
Parkinson. 


292  MAMMY  ROSIE 

"Does  yoh  think  so,  Miss?" 

"Surely." 

"Thank  Gawd !  Now,  ef  somebody  'd  only 
promise  me." 

"Trust  in  the  black  cat." 

That  such  lightly  spoken  assurance  of  help 
was  prompted  by  personal  motives  as  worthy 
as  her  own  the  old  darkey  did  not  believe ;  but 
it  in  no  wise  lessened  the  glow  of  joy  on  her 
black  face  as  she  replied:  'Thank  you,  ^liss; 
I  will;  fur  dem  animals  doesn't  know  whut 
dey  's  doin',  'ceptin'  when  dey  's  ketchin'  rats 
an'  mice.  Et  's  a  speret  whut  leads  'em  to  de 
right  places  an'  helps  folks  wid  deir  luck." 

Rosie  loved  the  sunny  places,  and  when  she 
grew  too  warm,  a  big  red  slice  of  ice-cold 
watermelon.  With  such  luxuries  assured  her, 
the  passage  of  time  usually  made  little  impres- 
sion upon  her  African  moods.  However,  after 
her  visit  to  Mrs.  Parkinson,  her  ardour  for  the 
union  of  A^irginia  and  Thornton  suffered  no 
diminution,  even  though  subject  to  brief 
lapses:  but,  through  sunshine  and  shadow, 
she  was  dimly  conscious  of  a  broad  gold 
"hjello"  above  her  head  suspended  on  the  slen- 


ROSIE  BARGAINS  FOR  A  HALO    293 

der  thread  of  the  widow's  promise.  She  knew 
the  latter's  power  and  trusted  her  discretion 
in. selecting  the  moment  for  a  suitable  start. 
At  last  her  faith  was  rewarded.  Mrs. 
Zander  read  to  her  the  significant  words  in  a 
copy  of  The  Social  Shotgun,  one  paragraph 
following  the  other:  ^'Rumours  of  an  import- 
ant engagement  are  agitating  Newport." 
''Reginald  Thornton  is  spending  the  Fourth  of 
July  holiday  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hugh  Melrose 
and  their  charming  niece  at  Villa  Melrose  on 
the  Clififs." 

A  month  later  a  second  Instalment  of  re- 
lated paragraphs  appeared  :  "Newport  breath- 
lessly awaits  the  announcement  of  the  most 
notable  engagement  of  the  season."  "Reginald 
Thornton  is  once  more  a  guest  at  Villa  Melrose ; 
this  time  for  a  fortnight." 

At  the  expiration  of  the  visit  Mrs.  Parkinson 
contributed  another  and  more  pointed  para- 
graph :  "It  is  significant  that  Reginald  Thorn- 
ton was  joined  by  a  member  of  his  immediate 
family  during  his  recent  visit  at  the  rose-ter- 
raced   villa    on    the    Cliffs    at    Newport.     Now 


294  MAMMY  ROSIE 

when  will  the  public  hear  the  formal  announce- 
ment so  long  expected?" 

"Dat  's  me !"  exclaimed  Rosie  with  pardon- 
able pride  to  Mrs.  Zander.  "I 's  glad  fur  his 
sake  dat  she  did  n't  say  de  'member  ob  de  fam- 
bly'  wuz  cidlud.  Strangehs  mightn't  jes' 
undehstan',  yoh  know,  and  dey  's  'risfocrats  ef 
dey  isn't  New  Yohkehs — de  Tho'ntons  is! 
'Deed,  Madam,  things  is  turrible  changed  sence 
de  wah.  Ef  yoh  comes  heah,  an'  dey  does  n't 
know  who  yoh  is,  yoh  's  jes'  dirt  undeh  deir 
feet ;  an'  dey  is  n't  got  no  gran'faddehs  an' 
gran'muddehs  neetheh,  fur,  I  hea'd  de  queen 
say  so ;  an'  she  knows.  Dey 's  queer  doin's 
dese  days,  an'  I  is  n't  in  'em !" 

"1  don't  know  about  that,"  observed  the 
artist;  "if  Mrs.  Parkinson  continue  her  assist- 
ance, it  looks  to  me  as  if  you  are  in  a  way  to 
figure  prominently  in  the  most  important  do- 
ings of  the  coming  season." 

"I  will.  Madam;  I  will,''  exclaimed  Rosie, 
inspired  by  the  prospect ;  "so  help  me.  Gawd !" 

One  Sunday  in  the  Christmas  holidays  she 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  her  patience  with 
Thornton  had  gone  far  enough.    Never  before 


ROSIE  BARGAINS  FOR  A  HALO     295 

had  she  seen  a  lover  so  unresponsive  to  the 
prodding  of  friends  and  a  long  expectant  pub- 
lic. Even  that  morning  the  united  press  of 
the  city  had  openly  connected  his  name  with 
that  of  Miss  Melrose :  and  yet,  after  church, 
he  had  returned  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Melrose 
and  Virginia  for  a  previously  arranged  lun- 
cheon at  his  apartment,  as  nonchalantly  as  if 
he  had  never  thought  of  marriage.  Such  in- 
difference, the  old  mammy  considered  ill  be- 
fitting a  young  man  from  whom  a  demonstra- 
tion of  some  sort  was  just  then  expected. 
Tlicrefore,  the  instant  the  meal  was  served 
by  Fritz,  she  donned  her  "company  bandana," 
v/hich  the  Melroses  loved  to  see,  and  descended 
to  the  entry  in  a  state  of  wild  excitement  over 
the  varying  reports  of  the  engagement,  as  car- 
ried to  her  by  Fritz  and  the  Zanders,  deter- 
mined to  convince  herself  of  their  truth  or 
fallacy  by  personal  observation.  At  first 
glance,  the  informality  of  the  company  gave 
the  appearance  of  a  family  party :  for,  Mr.  and 
Mrs,  Melrose  were  lounging  comfortably  in 
easy  chairs  in  the  salon  reading  the  daily 
papers.       Virginia     and  Thornton     were     not 


296  MAMMY  ROSIE 

visible,  though  Rosie  detected  their  shadows — 
seated  well  apart  on  the  library  sofa — on  the 
stained  glass  beside  which  she  eagerly  dropped 
into  her  favourite  seat. 

''Half  the  company  is  down  with  the  grippe," 
Virginia  was  saying,  ''and  the  substitutes  are 
called  in  from  the  highways  .and  the  by-ways. 
The  performances  have  been  deplorable  the 
past  fortnight.  We  've  given  our  box  away 
for  to-morrow  night.  Uncle  Hugh  declares 
he  won't  go  again  until  the  principal  singers, 
at  least,  are  in  better  shape." 

"It  has  been  an  awful  season,"  said  Thorn- 
ton. "I  never  remember  having  seen  opera  so 
badly  given." 

"Now  fur  Gawd's  sake,  whut  's  dat  to  do 
wid  yoh  gittin'  married?"  mumbled  the  old 
mammy.  "Eberybody  else  is  talkin'  'bout  et. 
Why  can't  yoh?" 

So  absorbed  was  she  in  her  vigil  that  the 
shock  of  a  sudden  peal  from  the  door-bell  al- 
most threw  her  off  her  seat.  Before  Fritz 
could  arrive  from  the  pantry  she  had  the  door 
opened. 


ROSIE  BARGAINS  FOR  A  HALO     297 

''Is  Mr.  Thornton  at  home  ?"  inquired  a  dap- 
per young  man  with  a  business-like  manner. 

"Yes,  sir,  he  is  ;   only  he  ain't.    He  's  busy." 

"So  am  I,"  said  the  visitor,  edging  his  way 
into  the  entry.  "Please  tell  Mr.  Thornton  I 
would  like  to  see  him  just  one  minute.  It  is 
very  important  to  him." 

Rosie  eyed  the  man  suspiciously;  but  Fritz 
was  there  to  watch  him  and  she  hastened  to 
deliver  the  message. 

"Ask  the  man  what  he  wants,"  replied 
Thornton;  "tell  him  I  have  guests  and  can't 
leave." 

The  old  mammy  looked  very  solemn  when 
she  returned  to  the  library.  Fate  had  un- 
expectedly and  suddenly  given  her  absolute 
control  of  the  situation  which  had  so  long  per- 
plexed her  and  puzzled  society.  Her  heart 
thumped  unevenly.  She  felt  as  if  the  words 
which  rose  to  her  lips  would  slip  back  and 
suffocate  her.  Lifting  her  eyes  in  silent  prayer 
for  courage,  she  was  momentarily  blinded  by  a 
bright  golden  ray.  It  was  the  entry  light  be- 
yond the  antique  yellow  glass ;  but  to  Rosie 
it  was  the  promise  of  a  heavenly  reward. 


ipS  MA.AiMY  ROSIE 

"What  did  the  man  say?"  asked  Thornton 
a  second  time. 

''He  said  'is  papeh  sent  'im ;  an*  'e  would  lose 
'is  job,  ef  'e  did  n't  fine  out  to-day  whetheh 
yoh  an' — Miss  Jinny — is  goin'  to  git  married T 

The  fall  of  a  pin  would  have  startled  any  of  the 
three  in  the  ensuing  silence.  Then  Thornton, 
with  a  noticeable  effort  to  conceal  his  embar- 
rassment, spoke  gently  as  Miss  ]\Ielrose 
shrunk,  white  and  startled,  into  the  sofa  cor- 
ner. 

"Well,  Rosie,  in  such  cases  it  is  customary 
to  ask  the  lady  first.  Simply  tell  the  man  I 
cannot  see  him;  and  I  will  consult  ]\liss  2\Iel- 
rose." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

ROSIE  PLANS  FOR  A  WEDDING. 


"Weddin's  is  good  fur  rheumatis,"  she  re- 
flected with  satisfaction  at  the  end  of  her  day's 
labours.  ''Dey  keeps  yoh  fhinkin'  oh  uddeh 
things." 


299 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

ROSIE  PLANS  FOR  A  WEDDING. 

At  breakfast  the  folloAving  morning,  Rosie 
received  the  satisfying  assurance  of  a  broad 
gold  "hello"  in  Eternity.  Thornton  told  her 
as  a  great  secret,  to  be  divulged  to  no  one,  that 
he  was  to  marry  "Miss  Jinny." 

His  eyes  laughed,  and  his  mouth  twitched 
as  if  he  wanted  to  say  more.  The  old  mammy 
knew  he  was  thinking  of  the  way  she  had 
forced  his  proposal,  and  became  so  self-con- 
scious that  her  felicitations  were  not  what  she 
could  have  wished  them.  Still  she  knew  she 
had  done  a  great  and  good  work  and  felt  his 
unspoken  gratitude ;  and  what  more  could  she 
crave?  To  her,  now,  the  happiness  of  the 
young  couple  was  supreme:  although  it  must 
be  confessed  that  with  love  for  both  deep- 
301 


302  AIAMMY  ROSIE 

rooted  in  her  heart,  the  greater  share  of  affec- 
tion belonged  to  Thornton.  He  was,  in 
thought,  her  "baby,"  and  she  liked  to  delude 
herself  with  the  belief  that  she  had  "raised" 
him  from  infancy.  Therefore,  after  he  had 
gone  down-town  and  she  had  had  time  to  re- 
cover her  equanimity,  the  result  of  gaining  her 
heart's  desire  appeared  to  her  hardly  as  attrac- 
tive as  she  had  expected.  It  simply  meant 
giving  up  the  cosey  apartment  where  she  had 
reigned  so  long,  and  sharing  her  care  of  him 
with  another  woman  who,  lovely  though  she 
might  be,  would  exercise  full  sway  over  him 
in  the  future  and  look  after  his  comfort.  She 
felt  as  if  her  "baby"  had  been  torn  from  her 
arms ;  and  crossing  her  hands  over  her  breast 
she  began  to  rock  to  and  fro,  sobbing  piteously. 
Suddenly  a  new  thought  illuminated  her 
face  and  stopped  her  tears  as  well  as  her  rock- 
ing: a  small  distant  voice  was  lisping  words  of 
comfort.  The  old  mammy  arose  with  a  soft 
light  in  her  eyes  and,  murmuring  inarticulate 
nothings  to  herself,  went  quietly  about  her 
work.  Even  though  the  routine  of  her  life  be 
changed,  the   future  promised   new   interests, 


ROSIE  PLANS  FOR  A  WEDDING    303 

new  joys  and  a  grandeur  which  she  had  never 
yet  experienced  even  ''befoh  de  wah."  Lifting 
her  eyes  reverently  she  prayed  that  she  might 
not  become  ''puffed-up  an'  furgittin'  ob  ole 
frens,"  and  ended  absently  by  omitting  the 
amen.  She  had  suddenly  thought  of  Mrs. 
Parkinson  and  her  invaluable  aid  in  uniting 
th'e  two  young  people. 

Rosie  had  been  too  thoroughly  trained  in  the 
old  school  of  Southern  chivalry  to  allow  a 
courtesy,  however  slight,  to  go  unrewarded. 
Therefore,  it  became  her  instant  duty  to  stir 
together  a  "Sally-Lunn"  and  to  carry  it  hot 
to  the  widow,  as  indicating  the  state  of  her 
gratitude  which  her  vow  of  secrecy  to  Thornton, 
and  also,  a  certain  delicacy  due  surreptitious 
contributors  to  scandalous  journals,  forbade 
her  expressing  verbally.  She  was  sure  of  be- 
ing understood,  knowing  that  in  society,  as 
well  as  in  politics  and  commerce,  a  silent  ex- 
change of  amenities  oftentimes  conveyed  the 
reward  for  both  diabolical  and  worthy  deeds. 
Rosie's  heart  was  singularly  stirred.  She  felt 
that  she  had  arrived  at  the  jumping-off  place 
in  life  and  that  the  credit  side  of  her  account 


304  MAMMY  ROSIE 

needed  the  final  balancing.  A  few  more  "Sally- 
Lunns"  would  do  it;  and  then  she  would  be 
ready  for  the  "hello"  whenever  the  trumpet 
sounded  the  call. 

'Weddin's  is  good  fur  rheimiatiz,"  she  re- 
flected with  satisfaction  at  the  end  of  her  day's 
labours.  "Dey  keeps  yoh  thinkin'  ob  uddeh 
things." 

Indeed,  the  whole  week  passed  like  a  dream 
to  the  loving  old  heart  in  squaring  accounts 
with  the  world  and  listening  to  Miss  Mel- 
rose's plans  for  the  trousseau  and  the  wedding. 
The  latter  had  been  fixed  for  Easter-Week  at 
St.  Bartholomew's  Church ;  and  a  reception, 
which  included  their  entire  social*  circle,  was  to 
follow  at  the  home  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Melrose. 

In  the  meantime,  society  reporters  were 
vainly  besieging  the  homes  of  the  prospective 
bride  and  groom  beseeching  definite  informa- 
tion which  Mr.  Melrose  deemed  it  wise  to 
withhold  and  give  out  at  the  last  moment  to 
the  Sunday  morning  papers :  for,  he  and  Mrs. 
Melrose  wished  to  first  announce  the  engage- 
ment at  a  large  dinner  party  which  they  in- 
tended to  give  the  preceding  evening. 


ROSIE  PLANS  FOR  A  WEDDING    305 

As  Rosie  had  been  promised  a  place  where 
she  could  witness  this  important  function,  she 
announced  herself  there  on  Saturday  evening 
long  before  Miss  Melrose  had  donned  her  din- 
ner-gown— for  the  old  mammy  was  too  much 
alive  to  the  excitement  of  the  occasion  to  remain 
at  home,  especially  as  Thornton  was  being  care- 
fully looked  after  by  Fritz.  Therefore,  she  re- 
ceived gratefully  Miss  Melrose's  suggestion  that 
she  might  like  to  see  the  guests  arrive,  and,  being 
placed  under  the  care  of  the  housekeeper,  was 
conducted  to  a  roomy  bower  of  green  palms 
and  fragrant  shrubs  which  occupied  the  mez- 
zanine floor  above  a  vaulted  gallery  connecting 
a  magnificent  music-room  and  the  banquet 
hall.  This  secluded  spot  was  open  at  the 
ends  in  order  that  one  orchestra  might  furnish 
music  for  both  apartments. 

A  score  or  more  musicians  were  already 
massing  themselves  on  the  brink  of  the  ban- 
quet hall  conversing  softly  in  a  foreign  tongue 
as  they  uncased  and  tuned  their  instruments. 
Unobserved  in  the  subdued  light,  Rosie  placed 
her  chair  where  a  gap  in  the  foliage  com- 
manded  the   stately   apartment   in   which   the 


3o6  MAMMY  ROSIE 

guests  were  to  assemble.  No  one  was  visible, 
though  just  below  her  she  could  hear  Mrs. 
Melrose  saying  in  gentle  high-bred  tones:  "I 
find  it  singular  that  Vida  should  have  insisted 
upon  returning  that  money  with  six  per  cent 
interest  added  to  it.    It  was  a  gift,  not  a  loan." 

"True,"  responded  a  voice  which  Rosie 
recognised  as  that  of  Air.  Melrose;  ''I  like  her 
suggestion,  though,  that  we  use  it  to  educate 
some  other  deserving  singer." 

''It  seems  noble.  I  only  hope  she  was  not 
actuated  by  other  motives." 

Mr.  ]\Ielrose  laughed  scoffingly.  ''Your 
imagination  would  fire  a  locomotive." 

''Financial  inducements  alone  did  not  bring 
her  back  to  New  York;  she  was  making  just 
as  much  over  there,"  retorted  his  wife. 

Rosie  felt  a  cold  chill  creeping  around  her 
heart.  The  moment  was  too  frightful  for  re- 
jection: she  bent  lower  over  her  knees  for 
support  and  listened  with  bated  breath. 

"She  probably  came  to  see  her  step-father," 
suggested  Mr.  Melrose.  "She  always  seemed 
fond  of  him." 


ROSIE  PLANS  FOR  A  WEDDING    307 

''Because  of  his  fidelity  to  her  mother,"  was 
the  quick  response. 

"He  died  two  years  ago,"  continued  Mrs. 
Melrose,  to  bridge  over  a  painful  silence. 

''I  would  n't  fret,  if  I  were  you,"  said  her 
husband  indifferently.  'Time  changes  all 
things." 

"Excepting  a  woman's  heart." 

"Vida  is  above  all,  a  prima-donna,"  observed 
Mr.  Melrose  more  cheerfully;  "after  that — a 
woman." 

"Yes  :  but  Vida  is  now  a  great  prima-donna : 
therein  lies  the  danger.  She  can  afford  to  listen 
to  her  heart.  We  don't  know  but  that — " 
Mrs.  Melrose  hesitated  and  almost  whispered, 
"she  may  still  wield  an  influence  over  Reg." 

"Nonsense !  She  has  neither  seen  nor  heard 
from  him  in  three  years — you  know  that  per- 
fectly well." 

"Nevertheless,  I  can't  overcome  a  feeling  of 
guilt  for  my  duplicity  in  that  matter." 

"Bah  !     I  would  n't  do  business  that  way  !" 

"Hugh !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Melrose  evidently 
shocked. 


3o8  MAMMY  ROSIE 

''Reg  seems  very  fond  of  Virginia/'  she 
added  with  a  sigh. 

''Don't  make  yourself  miserable  unneces- 
sarily." 

''He  's  human." 

"Then  why — of  all  nights — did  you  invite 
Vida  for  this  particular  dinner?" 

"They  say  most  women  become  flabby- 
minded  at  middle-age,"  replied  }^Irs.  Melrose 
humbly. 

"It  was  an  impulse,"  she  continued.  "The 
telephone  doesn't  give  one  time  to  reflect: 
so  when  Vida  called  me  up  this  morning 
to  ask  when  she  could  see  me,  I  knew  I  had  n't 
a  moment  before  dinner;  and  I  thought  it, 
also,  a  hospitable  thing  to  do — the  day  of  her 
arrival,  after  such  a  long  absence.  I  had  to 
have  an  extra  woman  anyway,  as  Mrs.  Hamp- 
ton-Yorke  had  telephoned  five  minutes  before 
to  ask  an  invitation  for  Lord  Ridgeley  who 
has  just  arrived  in  town." 
"Ridgeley?" 

"Yes.  The  one  Mrs.  Parkinson  is  supposed 
to  be  interested  in." 

"Would    Madam    like    to    see    the    dinner- 


ROSIE  PLANS  FOR  A  WEDDING    309 

table?"  interrupted  a  third  voice.  "Everything 
is  in  readiness." 

''Yes.     Come  with  me,  Hugh." 

Rosie  leaned  heavily  on  her  knees,  when  left 
alone  to  reflect.  She  was  too  weak  to  move. 
With  closed  eyes  she  seemed  floating  off 
through  limitless  space,  a  homeless  spirit  in  a 
sea  of  darkness.  A  dawning  consciousness  of 
light  fraught  with  a  bitter  penetrating  chill 
filled  her  with  indefinable  terror.  Instinctively 
she  reached  out  to  draw  her  thin  shawl  more 
closely  around  her  quivering  shoulders  and, 
with  numb  fingers,  to  tighten  the  strings  of 
her  faded  bombasine  bonnet  under  her  attenu- 
ated chin.  She  was  once  more  tired  and  hun- 
gry, a  friendless  wanderer  in  the  streets  of  a 
great  city.  People  drew  away  from  her  as 
they  passed,  hurrying  on  as  if  she  were  a  leper. 
Some  leered  at  her  with  greedy  eyes  until 
satisfied  that  she  was  worth  contempt  only, 
and  left  her  to  the  consideration  of  the  next 
thieving  tramp.  The  lights  flamed  higher  and 
she  could  see  that  all  the  faces  were  black ;  not 
a  white  one  in  all  that  swarming  concourse. 
Some,  she  knew,  and  then  the  familiar  land- 


310  MAMMY  ROSIE 

marks  of  Seventh  Avenue  loomed  up  in  the 
background. 

Seventh  Avenue !  Her  heart  seemed  to  stop 
its  beating;  and  as  she  staggered  toward  a 
wall  for  support,  she  fell  headlong  into  a  gar- 
ishly lighted  cellar.  Coloured  women  with  the 
eyes  and  talons  of  eagles  were  feverishly  ex- 
amining an  assortment  of  splendid  garments 
which  depended  from  a  long  line  of  pegs. 

*'Dat  's  mine,"  gasped  Rosie,  snatching  at 
the  skirts  of  the  nearest  woman.  "De  queen 
gib  et  to  me.  Drap  et,  fur  Gawd's  sake! 
Drap  et !"  she  cried  to  the  next.  *'Miss  Annie 
gib  et  to  me,  an'  I  's  woh  et  to  special  masses. 
Fur  de  lub  ob  de  Virgin,  Miss :  don't  tech  et !" 
she  implored  on  her  knees  before  a  third.  ''Et 's 
de  grand  hat  whut  little  j\Iiss  Jinny  gib  me 
to  weah  at  de  charity  conce't."  Blinded  by 
tears  she  dropped  her  head  limply  on  her  chest 
and  swayed  forward. 

"Get  up!"  called  a  harsh,  unfamiliar  voice. 
"This  is  no  place  for  you!  Your  grave-cross 
is  sold  for  debt!  You  are  dead  and  the  night- 
doctor's  ambulance  is  waiting  at  the  door!" 

"Jes'  one  moh   look;    jes'   one  moh   look!" 


ROSIE  PLANS  FOR  A  WEDDING    3" 

moaned  Rosie,  feebly  lifting  her  eyes  toward 
a  brilliant  light  at  the  end  of  the  cellar.  ''My 
Gawd !"  she  cried  with  sudden  strength,  rais- 
ing her  arms  in  protest.  "My  Gawd!  Stop 
'im!  Dat's  my  picture  whut  Miss  DriscoU 
done  painted  fur  my  fambly !  I  did  n't  mean 
et  when  I  said  dey  could  fire  at  et  in  a  shootin'- 
gall'ry!  I  wuz  only  jokin'!  Don't  let  'im 
shoot!  Oh,  my  Gawd!  Bof  my  eyes  is  out! 
Don'— don'  let  'im  shoot  de  mouf!  Dem  lips 
neveh  said  no  bad  to  nobody !" 

''Didn't  they?  Didn't  they?"  cried  a 
familiar  ringing  voice;  and  before  her  stood 
Miss  Vidalli  luminous-eyed  and  transcendentally 
beautiful.  "They  ruined  my  life!  Shoot  out 
the  tongue,  my  man.  It  sent  me  away  from 
the  one  who  loved  me  and  whom  I  love  still, 
better  than  I  love  my  music.  That  is  why  I 
have  come  back— to  claim  him  and  drive  out  this 
miserable  lying  old  creature!  He  loves  me 
still!  He  loves  me  still!"  A  long  triumphant 
laugh  reverberated  above  the  heads  of  the 
gathering  throng;  and  Miss  Vidalli  bent 
over  her  vindictively.  "You  tried  to  wreck  my 
life!    Now  see  what  you  have  done  to  yours!" 


312  MAMMY  ROSIE 

Snatching  a  shimmering  object  from  a  heap  of 
splendid  brocades  and  velvets,  she  held  it  high 
above  her  head.  "Who  wants  a  halo?  Who 
wants  a  halo !" 

A  wild  stampede ;  a  roar  of  countless  voices ; 
and  a  cloud  of  long,  waving  arms  filled  the 
stifling  air.  "Me !  Et  's  mine !"  frantically 
shrieked  a  hated  voice.  "She  died,  owin'  me 
fur  'er  room.  Wid  whut  de  night-doctehs  pays 
fur  'er  corpse  dat  '11  be  jes'  'nough.  Thank 
yoh,  mam.  Thank  yoh.  Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha! 
Isn't  I  grand?  Jes'  look  at  me;  jes'  look 
at  me !" 

Rosie  had  barely  strength  to  recognise  the 
yellow-skinned,  rotten-toothed,  snarling  mul- 
atto, her  ex-landlady — in  whose  flat  she  had 
suffered  untold  anguish — framed  in  a  circle  of 
blinding  golden  light,  before  sinking  with  a 
wild  cry  of  horror  into  oblivion. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

ROSIE   HEARS   THE    CHERUBIxM. 


''Society  zvoiild  he  extinguished  if  denied  the 
privileges  of  exaggeration." — Mrs.  Parkinson. 

All  differences  had  been  wiped  out,  all  mis- 
understandings corrected  in  so  far  as  concerned 
the  future,  and  if  regrets  remained,  it  was  the  in- 
evitable duty  of  brave  men  and  good  women  to 
leave  them  unspoken  in  the  secret  recesses  of 
their  hearts,  along  with  the  tender  memories  of  a 
dead,  forever  vanished  past. 


313 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

ROSIE  HEARS  THE  CHERUBIM. 

"Mr.  and  Mrs.  Melrose  were  here  a  moment 
ago.  If  Madam  will  kindly  wait,  I  will  find 
them.'' 

Aroused  by  the  butler's  gently  modulated  tones, 
Rosie  listened  intently :  but  again  all  was  still 
save  for  the  low  murmur  of  the  musicians  at 
the  other  end  of  the  loggia.  She  had  not 
slept:  she  had  simply  drifted  away  on  one  of 
those  visionary  journeyings  with  which  she 
fed  her  imagination  and  filled  her  life.  Per- 
spiration flowed  in  fantastic  rivulets  down  her 
black  face  as  she  lifted  her  head  and  gazed  won- 
deringly  about  her ;  but  the  burden  of  the  new- 
fear  oppressing  her  heart  dimmed  the  features 
of  the  splendid  apartment  into  which  she  was 
looking  with  dull,  lustreless  eyes.     The  plot  un- 

315 


3i6  MAMMY  ROSIE 

folding  before  her  in  the  great  mansion  had  be- 
come too  complex  for  her  shattered  understand- 
ing, and,  it  seemed  to  her,  comprehensible  only 
through  some  divine  miracle. 

A  movement  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room 
attracted  her  attention.  A  woman  of  regal 
carriage  was  trailing  a  gown  of  shimmering 
white  across  the  polished  floor.  Her  head  and 
neck  were  ablaze  with  flashing  jewels  and  as 
she  stopped  beside  the  piano  and  turned  her 
uplifted  eyes  toward  the  beflowered  balcony, 
Rosie  nervously  polished  and  readjusted  her 
spectacles  for  a  second  look.  She  felt  it  must 
be  Miss  Vidalli ;  she  knew  it  v>-as — yet  prayed 
she  might  be  mistaken.  Time  had  modified  her 
recollection  of  the  singer's  lovely  face :  but,  as 
she  gazed,  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  never 
before  beheld  such  marA^ellous  beauty. 

A  strain  of  m.usic  floated  up  to  her  like  the 
distant  song  of  a  nightingale.  The  prima- 
donna  was  hum.ming  softly  to  herself  and  as 
Rosie  bent  her  head  lower  to  listen,  she  seemed 
to  hear  again  Henley's  beautiful  words  which 
Thornton  had  sung  through  six  happy  weeks : 


ROSIE  HEARS  THE  CHERUBIM    317 

'The  sweetest  flower  that  blows, 

I  give  you  as  we  part ; 
You  think  it  but  a  rose, 

Ah,  me !   It  is  my  heart !" 

"Brava !  Brava  !"  rose  a  fresh  young  voice 
above  muffled  applause  as  the  last  note  soared 
gently  into  space  and  died  lingeringly  among 
the  singing  cherubim  on  the  ceiling.  "The 
first  song  you  ever  sang  in  this  house."  And 
Virginia,  arms  extended,  was  half-way  across 
the  room  ere  Rosie  espied  her,  to  welcome  Miss 
Vidalli  with  an  aflfectionate  embrace. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  singer,  "that  was  indeed 
the  echo  of  a  happy  day." 

"Mr.  Thornton  asked  for  it,"  said  Virginia 
self-consciously. 

"Yes:  so  he  did,"  said  Miss  Vidalli  with 
studied  deliberation.  "How  long  ago  that 
seems.  I  have  not  heard  of  him  in  all  these 
years — excepting — 'among  those  present.' 
How  is  he?" 

"He  is  dining  with  us  to-night." 

The  two  women  were  regarding  each  other 
closely. 


3i8  MAMMY  ROSIE 

"I  believe  I  am  to  see  a  number  of  old 
friends,"  observed  Miss  Vidalli  cautiously. 

''Have  n't  you  longed  to  see  them — just  a 
little  bit — at  times?" 

'']\Iore  than  you  know,"  replied  the  prima- 
donna  with  such  fervency  that  Virginia  in  an 
attempt  to  appear  disinterested,  caught  her  arm 
and  slowly  led  her  down  the  room,  forgetful 
of  Rosie's  presence  in  the  loggia.  ''When  I 
received  the  cablegram  offering  me  an  engage- 
ment at  the  ^Metropolitan,  I  interpreted  it, 
'Come  home:  we  want  to  see  you,'  although 
it  read — 'One  thousand  dollars  per  night  for 
thirty  performances.'  " 

"Tell  me,  A'ida,"  inquired  Virginia  irrele- 
vantly and  quasi-playfully  as  they  seated  them- 
selves ander  the  edge  of  the  balcony  where 
Rosie  could  no  longer  see  them.  "Has — no 
one,  over  there — been  after  your  heart?" 

"Several,"  laughed  the  prima-donna. 

"In  vain?" 

"Thus  far." 

"Which  means  you  may  change  your 
mind?" 

"Who  can  tell?" 


ROSIE  HEARS  THE  CHERUBIM    319 

"Then  you  did  like  one  a  little  bit  better 
than  the  others?" 

"Yes." 

"A  musician  ?" 

"No:  just  a  good,  wholesome — English- 
man." 

''Did  you  really  care  for  him?" 

"As  a  friend,,  only." 

"What  did  you  tell  him?" 

"That  I  loved  art  better."  - 

Miss  Vidalli  laughed  lightly,  but  Virginia's 
voice  became  more  serious  as  she  continued 
to  question  her.  "But  do  you  think  you  always 
will?" 

"That  depends  on —  Why  do  you  ask?"  said 
Miss  Vidalli,  suddenly  feigning  amusement 
to  avoid  a  direct  reply. 

"Because,"  said  Virginia  lowering  her  voice, 
"the  subject  interests  me  deeply  at  present. 
I  have  been  engaged  almost  a  week !" 

The  ensuing  pause  became  painful  to  Rosie. 
Her  heart-strings  seemed  ready  to  snap,  when 
the  silence  was  broken  by  Miss  Vidalli,  who 
had  evidently  hesitated  in  order  to  select  her 


320  MAMMY  ROSIE 

words  and  control  her  voice.  "I  congratulate 
the  fortunate  man  with  all  my  heart." 

'Thank  you,"  said  Virginia  simply.  "I  am 
the  one  to  be  congratulated :  for  he  is  the  dear- 
est, truest,  best  man  in  the  world.  I  will  in- 
troduce him  to  you  to-night." 

"Oh;  he  is  to  be  here,  too,"  observed  Miss 
Vidalli  in  tones  of  relief. 

''Of  course,"  laughed  Virginia  abruptly. 
"We  are  to  announce  our  engagement  this 
evening.    In  fact " 

"Ah,  at  last !"  Mr.  :\Ielrose  exclaimed,  enter- 
ing at  this  moment  with  his  wife.  As  the 
latter  added  a  cordial  welcome,  Rosie  alone 
observed  Thornton  at  the  entrance  to  the 
music-room,  his  arm  outstretched  to  withhold 
the  butler  from  entering  and  announcing  his 
name. 

"Why  did  3^ou  not  let  me  know  you  were  on 
the  'Landgraf  three  years  ago?"  inquired  Mr. 
Melrose.  "It  was  mere  chance  that  I  saw  you 
boarding  the  tender  at  Cherbourg." 

The  butler  had  disappeared,  and  Thornton, 
protected  by  the  portieres,  stood  listening  for 
Miss  Vidalli's  answer. 


ROSIE  HEARS  THE  CHERUBIM     321 

"I  was  not  out  of  my  state-room  all  the  way 
over." 

*'It  was  a  rough  passage." 

"It  never  occurred  to  me  but  that  you  were 
in  Florida  with  Mrs.  and  Miss  Melrose." 

''Every  one  thought  so — for  a  time,"  said 
Mr.  Melrose,  with  a  chuckle  of  satisfaction. 
"Well — we  are  very  proud  and  gratified  that 
you  have  made  yourself  such  a  power  that  you 
had  to  be  sent  for  to  save  the  opera  season  in 
New  York." 

"I  owe  it  all  to  yours  and  Mrs.  Melrose's 
timely  generosity — long  ago.  You  will  re- 
member how  eagerly  I  took  advantage  of  it!" 
Miss  Vidalli  gave  a  merry  laugh  in  which  the 
other  three  joined  as  if  a  load  had  been  lifted 
from  their  hearts.  Certainly  a  better  tone 
prevailed  after  that,  though  for  a  moment 
Rosie  drew  back  in  alarm  at  the  strange  ex- 
pression on  Thornton's  face  as  he  heard  the 
vindication  of  the  prima-donna's  character. 

The  echoes  of  a  guilty  concealment  produce 
startling  effects,  even  in  the  mind  of  a  super- 
stitious old  darkey.  Rosie  unquestionably 
felt  as  if  she  were  beino-  cremated  alive  until 


322  MAMMY  ROSIE 

she  experienced  the  relief  of  liearing  Miss 
Vidalli's  concluding  remark:  ''What  should 
have  kept  me  here?" 

Thornton  looked  puzzled,  and  listened  atten- 
tively as  the  beautiful  singer  continued: 
''Your  luck  seemed  to  follow  me.  The  first 
week  in  Paris  I  was  engaged  to  fill  a  vacancy 
at  the  St.  Petersburg  opera.  You  know  all 
about  my  life  there  since  then.  I  left  Russia 
the  middle  of  last  month  to  sing  ten  nights  at 
Monte  Carlo.  It  cost  New  York  ten  thousand 
francs  to  break  my  contract." 

"What  is  that  to  the  money  the  picked-up 
casts  have  lost  them?"  said  Mr.  ^Melrose. 
*'You  don't  know  what  we  have  endured  with 
grippe  epidemic  in  the  opera  company.  Paleska 
is  the  only  prima-donna  who  has  not  missed  a 
performance." 

At  a  nod  from  Thornton,  the  butler  an- 
nounced him  in  ringing  accents.  The  prima- 
donna  lingered  expectantly  in  the  background. 

"Vida,"  called  Virginia  across  the  room; 
*'here  Is  an  old  friend." 

"Yes:    we  are  old  friends!     Are  we  not?" 


ROSIE  HEARS  THE  CHERUBIM    323 

said  Thornton  firmly,  though  his  face  seemed 
very  white  as  he  advanced  to  offer  his  hand. 

"Indeed  we  are!"  replied  the  singer  sin- 
cerely, yet  pale  as  he. 

"My  fiance,"  Virginia  said,  stepping  nearer 
and  indicating  Thornton  with  a  quiet  smile. 

For  an  instant  Miss  Vidalli  seemed  petrified, 
but  quickly  recovered  Irerself. 

"Why — I  thought  it  some  one  else,  from  the 
way  you  spoke,"  she  said  slowly,  forgetful  of 
conventional  phrases. 

"I  was  sure  of  it,"  laughed  Virginia.  "Now 
you  will  congratulate  me;   will  you  not?" 

Miss  Vidalli,  her  face  betraying  emotion, 
joined  the  hands  of  the  two  young  people  be- 
tween her  own  and  said  gently :   ''Both  of  you !" 

"Come!"  said  Virginia,  assuming  an  air  of 
gaiety  and  urging  her  forward  as  the  butler 
announced  Mrs.  Parkinson. 

"No,  thanks.  If  you  don't  mind  I  will  re- 
main here.  I  still  feel  the  motion  of  the  ship." 
Sinking  into  an  isolated  sofa  she  began  to 
wield  a  fan  of  white  ostrich-tips  with  diamond 
studded  sticks,  too  much  the  woman  of  the 
world  to  give  further  intimation  of  what  was 


324  MAMMY  ROSIE 

passing  within.  Yet  Rosie,  who  studied  her 
closely,  felt  instinctively  that  the  news  of  the 
engagement  had  been  not  only  a  surprise  but, 
also,  a  bitter  disappointment  to  the  singer: 
for,  she  had  given  Thornton  ample  time  in 
which  to  mend  his  heart  and  return  to  his  first 
love — if  he  so  desired — and  that  in  so  far  as 
she  knew  he  had  not  done  so  at  the  end  of 
three  years,  was  conclusive  evidence  that  he 
was  still  faithful  or  at  least  heart  free.  There- 
fore, what  more  natural,  if  she  loved  him,  than 
to  return  to  New  York  full  of  hope — ready  to 
sacrifice  even  her  musical  career  for  him,  if  he 
still  demanded  it. 

These  unhappy  reflections  coupled  with  the 
dangerous  fact  of  Thornton's  discovery  of  how 
wrongfully  he  had  misjudged  Miss  Vidalli 
so  overcame  the  agitated  old  darkey  that  she 
only  dimly  heard  Mr.  ]\Ielrose  say : 

"Virginia  and  Reg  have  something  to  tell 
you." 

"No  need,"  cried  Mrs.  Parkinson  cheerily. 
"Their  faces  betray  them." 

"Mr.  Wynne !"  shouted  the  butler. 


ROSIE  HEARS  THE  CHERUBIM    325 

"Have  you  seen  Vida?"  Virginia  asked  Mrs. 
Parkinson,  as  Dick  entered  the  room. 

The  widow  turned  and  gazed  wonderlngly 
at  the  prima-donna's  new  splendour,  but  see- 
ing herself  observed,  she  advanced  with  a 
suave  greeting  as  the  butler  announced: 

''Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bancker !" 

"Mr.  andMrs.  VanSihr 

"Miss  Stafford !" 

"Mr.  Benson  !" 

"Mrs.  Hampton- Yorke !" 

In  the  hum  of  general  conversation  Rosie 
was  unable  to  distinguish  anything  definite 
that  was  said  until  Miss  Vidalli  moved  nearer 
with  Dick  Wynne  and  Mrs.  Parkinson. 

"Virginia  seems  very  happy,"  observed  the 
latter  significantly.  "Two  seldom  love  with  the 
same  degree  of  intensity." 

"Which  is  it  in  your  case?"  inquired  Dick. 

''Tommy,  of  course.  It 's  a  specialty  of  his. 
His  august  mother  wishes  it  were  not.  He  is 
not  an  angel,  but  the  most  lovable  of  men." 

"Are  you  engaged  to  be  married?"  asked 
Miss  VidalH,  with  a  hasty  glance  at  the 
widow's  half-mourning. 


326  MAMMY  ROSIE 

"It  is  customary  to  say  'no,'  "  was  the  coy 
response. 

"May  I  ask  the  fortunate  man's  name?" 

"Sh!"  Mrs.  Parkinson  raised  her  hand  to 
warn  Dick,  who  said  promptly :  "Lord  Ridge- 
ley." 

"I  shall  not  confide  in  you  again,"  pouted 
the  widow,  regarding  him  with  approving 
eyes. 

"Lord  Ridgeley!  Really!"  exclaimed  Miss 
Vidalli  in  surprise. 

"Do  you  know  him?"  inquired  I\Irs.  Parkin- 
son curtly. 

"I  have  frequently  seen  him." 

"Then  you  have  heard  of  his  affair  with  that 
concert-hall  singer.  I  might  as  well  speak  of 
it,  for  everybody  was  talking  about  it  last 
summer  at  Homburg.  His  mother  had  just 
recaptured  him  and  had  him  dangling  obedi- 
ently at  her  apron-strings  when  I  arrived 
there." 

"Was  that  not  because  the  singer  refused 
him  ?" 

"Refused  him?  Oh  dear,  no!  She  was  not 
that  kind  of  a  person  at  all." 


ROSIE  HEARS  THE  CHERUBIM     327 

''Yet  his  own  mother  told  me  she  favoured 
the  match." 

"That  goes  to  show  how  people  garble 
facts,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Parkinson,  as  she 
scanned  the  singers  features  for  some  hidden 
truth.  "Society  would  be  extinguished  if  de- 
nied the  privileges  of  exaggeration !" 

"Shall  you — reach  London  in  time  for  the 
season?"  inquired  Miss  Vidalli  with  a  peculiar 
twinkle  in  her  eye. 

The  widow  expressed  her  doubt  in  a  barely 
perceptible  shrug. 

'T  have  just  contracted  for  twenty  appear- 
ances at  Covent  Garden  after  the  season  here," 
continued  the  singer. 

Mrs.  Parkinson  looked  surprised.  "Here? 
Are  you  to  sing  at  the  Metropolitan?" 

"I  am  to  make  my  debut  in  Taust'  on  Wednes- 
day evening." 

"Really?  Delightful!  I  hadn't  heard  a 
word  of  it.  Why — they  've  announced  Madame 
Akrona,  the  great  singer  from  the  St.  Peters- 
burg opera.  I  suppose  she  has  caught  the 
grippe,  too.  Well,  one  might  expect  it  of  an 
Italian,  in  this  climate." 


328  MAMMY  ROSIE 

"Italian?"  said  Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke,  who 
was  standing  near,  unaware  of  ]\Iiss  Vidalli's 
presence.  "She 's  an  American  from  Akron, 
Ohio.  I  know  all  about  her.  She  's  the  one 
Lord  Ridgeley  is  so  crazy  about." 

"Ridgeley!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Parkinson  in 
amazement. 

"Certainly.  His  mother  wrote  me  all  about 
it:  and  he  admitted  it  when  I  saw  him  at 
luncheon  to-day." 

"At  luncheon  to-day !"  gasped  the  widow. 

"Yes:  he  landed  here  this  morning,  and 
comes  to  me  to-morrow  for  a  fortnight.  Why, 
Vida!" 

The  prima-donna  had  just  lowered  her  fan 
with  the  reflection  of  a  suppressed  smile  still 
illuminating  her  perfect  beauty,  as  Mrs. 
Hampton-Yorke  stopped  before  her  in  frank 
admiration. 

"Followed  Akrona  out  here?"  Mrs.  Parkin- 
son exclaimed  quizzically  to  Dick  Wynne  as 
the  full-lunged  butler  proclaimed  the  last  of  a 
long  line  of  dinner  guests: 

"The  Earl  of  Ridgeley !" 

The  stalwart  young  Englishman's  progress 


ROSIE  HEARS  THE  CHERUBIM    329 

down  the  room  at  the  side  of  Mrs.  Melrose, 
was  marked  by  a  perceptible  diminution  of 
the  general  hum:  the  portieres  concealing  the 
gallery-entrance  to  the  dining-room  were 
noiselessly  drawn  aside;  the  orchestra  burst 
forth  in  tonal  splendour:  and  the  stately  but- 
ler bowed  his  announcement  of  dinner  before 
the  hostess. 

Mrs.  Melrose  stopped  with  the  distinguished 
foreigner  in  front  of  Miss  Vidalli.  ''Lord 
Ridgeley — Madame  Akrona." 

"Oh,  we  are  old  friends,"  said  he,  warmly 
grasping  the  singer's  hand  and  drawing  her  to 
one  side  as  the  astonished  guests  murmured  in 
unison :  "Madame  Akrona  !" 

"Have  you  seen  Mrs.  Parkinson?"  asked 
Vida,  making  an  effort  to  conceal  her  amuse- 
ment behind  her  fan. 

"That  designing  little  widow?" 

"Be  careful ;  here  she  is." 

Unlike  the  others,  Mrs.  Parkinson  had  lost 
no  time  in  surprised  exclamations.  She  had 
thought  quickly  and  her  prompt  greeting  to 
Lord  Ridgeley  was  to  forestall  both  the  plans 
and  the  comments  of  her  fellow-guests. 


330  MAMMY  ROSIE 

'What  night  can  you  dine  with  me?"  she 
inquired  demurely.  "Ah !  You  look  at  Madame 
Akrona  for  your  answer !  Vida,  what  evening 
next  week  may  I  ask  Lord  Ridgeley  and  some 
others  to  meet  you  at  dinner?" 

"Thursday,"  replied  the  singer,  after  a 
moment's  reflection. 

"Then  at  eight  o'clock,"  affirmed  the  little 
widow.  "Remember  that 's  an  engagement. 
Now  tell  me  how  you  happen  to  be  Madam.e 
Akrona?" 

"A  mere  fancy.  It  amused  me  to  disappear 
and  become " 

"Celebrated,"  volunteered  Ridgeley. 

" under    another    name,"    she    continued ; 

"and  the  madame — well,  I  was  alone,  and 
I  thought  I  would  chaperon  myself  to  econo- 
mise.   I  am  still,  Vida,  to  my  friends." 

"Do  you  think  she  will  accept  him?"  said 
Dick  in  a  neighbouring  group. 

"Insistence  will  win  almost  any  woman," 
replied  Mrs.  Hampton-Yorke. 

"It  would  be  a  pity,"  said  ^Irs.  Bancker. 
"The  stage  can't  afford  to  give  up  her  glori- 
ous voice." 


ROSIE  HEARS  THE  CHERUBIM    331 

"It  does  n't  need  to,"  declared  Mrs.  Hamp- 
ton-Yorke.  "Ridgeley  is  an  opera-fiend  and 
would  n't  have  her  stop  singing  for  anything — 
rich  as  he  is !" 

"Den  she  '11  marry  'im,"  muttered  the  old 
coloured  mammy  in  the  loggia,  feeling  that  a 
tremendous  load  had  been  lifted  from  her 
heart.     "She  '11  marry  'im,  shuh  !" 

A  general  movement  being  made  toward  the 
dining-room,  Mr.  Melrose  offered  his  arm  to 
Vida.  "I  don't  understand  the  significance  of 
that  music,"  she  said,  with  an  attempt  at  a 
smile  as  they  led  the  march  to  the  dining- 
room.  "  'See  the  conquering  hero  comes !'  '* 
Mr.  Melrose  drew  her  to  one  side.  "Here, 
Reg!"  he  called.  "That  music  is  for  you  and 
Virginia  ;  you  must  lead  !" 

This  slight  diversion  established  the  humour 
of  the  dinner  company  as  they  settled  them- 
selves about  the  great  circular  display  of  mas- 
sive candelabra  rising  from  a  bed  of  exquisite 
blossoms,  rarest  crystal  and  gold  plate.  "The 
engagement"  was  the  theme  of  conversation 
and  "love"  the  theme  of  the  music  which 
floated  out  from  the  loggia  and  ravished  the 


332  MAMMY  ROSIE 

senses  of  the  listeners  like  the  choice  vintage 
wine  in  which  they  drank  to  the  health  of  *'the 
bride  and  groom  to  be!" 

Over  the  heads  of  the  orchestra  ]\Iammy 
Rosie  was  watching  them  with  tears  in  her 
eyes  and  joy  in  her  heart. 

All  differences  had  been  wiped  out,  all  mis- 
understandings corrected  in  so  far  as  con- 
cerned the  future,  and  if  regrets  remained, 
it  was  the  inevitable  duty  of  brave  men  and  good 
women  to  leave  them,  unspoken,  in  the  secret  re- 
cesses of  their  hearts,  along  with  the  tender 
memories  of  a  dead,  forever  vanished  past. 
Youth  lives  on  hope  ;  weary  old  age  on  the  prom- 
ise of  eternal  rest  from  grief  and  pain — grateful 
for  the  small  comforts  of  daily  existence  and  the 
boon  of  spiritual  peace. 

Mammy  Rosie  felt  that  she  had  earned  her 
right  to  both,  and,  with  full  faith  in  the  un- 
swerving integrity  and  loyalty  of  the  young 
couple  whose  lives  she  had  united,  she  stole 
gently  back  to  her  nook  at  the  other  end  of  the 
loggia  to  revel  in  her  brilliantly  conceived 
triumph  and  dream  of  future  rewards. 

''Roxana's  wohk  is  oveh,"  she  repeated  softly, 


ROSIE  HEARS  THE  CHERUBIM     333 

lifting  her  eyes  in  final  thanksgiving.     "Yes,  et 
suhtainly " 

Long  she  sat  there,  motionless,  fascinated 
by  the  rays  from  the  light  behind  her  as  they 
encircled  her  gray  head  in  a  golden  glory  and 
defined  a  mystic  pathway  to  the  frescoed  ceil- 
ing beyond.  Something  there  brought  an  ex- 
pectant smile  to  her  beatified  face.  Seraph 
voices  v^ere  murmuring  tender  words  of 
promise. 

"Well,"  she  added,  her  tones  fading  in  a 
whispered  caress.  ''Not  quite — but — most 
ovehr 

[the  end.] 


ILLUSTRATED    EDITION 

''MISS    TRAUMEREF^ 

A  WEIMAR  IDYL 

Ornamental  Cloth,  St. 60  By  MLBgRT  MORRIS  BAGBf 


A  novel  of  interest  to  the  generality  of  readers, 
as  well  as  musicians.  Avoiding  musical  technicali- 
ties, it  presents  not  only  a  vivid  and  accurate  picture 
of  music-student  life  in  historic  Weimar,  but  un- 
folds the  unique  and  fascinating  love-story  of  a  New 
York  society  girl,  whose  admirers  and  associates  in- 
clude various  German  and  American  types,  aristo- 
cratic, artistic,  or  amusing.  These  characters  move 
against  a  charming  background  of  romantic  scenery. 
As  the  material  for  the  story  is  largely  drawn  from 
notes  taken  by  the  author  during  his  long  stay  in 
Weimar,  he  is  enabled  to  throw  new  sidelight  upon 
Liszt's  home-life  and  methods  of  teaching,  and  in- 
cidentally to  give  a  number  of  hitherio  unpublished 
anecdotes  and  episodes  concerning  the  great  master. 
The  novel  may  fairly  claim  attention  for  its  deft 
combination  of  the  historic  and  artistic,  of  the  ideal 
and  the  real. 

Sent  postpaid  upon  receipt  of  published  price. 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE  AUTHOR 

J8  WEST  34th  STREET  NEW  YORK 

334 


A  FEW  PRESS  COMMENTS 


"Weimar  and  Liszt  stand  out  like  a  perfect  picture." 
— Cleveland  Gazette. 

"It  has  a  permanent  value,  .  .  .  faultless  taste." 
—Quincy  {III.)  Optic. 

"'Miss  Traumerei'  will  make  a  stir  in  the  musical 
world." — Musical  Courier. 

"Thoroughly  interesting,  and  worthy  of  a  place  in 
literature." — N.  Y.  Mail  and  Express. 

"As  a  Lisztianer  story  it  will  always  have  readers." — 
The  Pianist. 

"There  is  a  weird  personality  in  these  Weimar 
reminiscences." — The  New  Cycle. 

"Lovers  of  music,  whether  students  of  music  or  not, 
cannot  fail  to  enjoy  'Miss  Traumerei.'  " — A'".  Y.  Vogue. 

"What  interests  me  most  in  the  book  is  the  sketches 
of  the  great  musician,  and  the  picture  of  the  art  life  that 
surrounds  him." — Jeanette  E.  Gilder,  in  N.  Y.  World. 

"Mr.  Bagby's  literary  concerto  is  infinitely  charming 
in  all  its  variations." — Boston  Herald. 

"The  tale  of  love  is  as  fresh  and  fragrant  as  the  roses 
of  Weimar.  The  glimpses  of  Liszt  will  be  of  permanent 
value." — Washington  Post. 

"Mr.  Bagby's  novel,  which  all  fashionable  New  York 
has  read  with  delight,  shows  intellectual  merit  of  high 
order,  and  is  vastly  entertaining  besides." — Boston 
Herald. 

"As  a  photograph  of  the  inner  life  of  the  class  of 
advanced  musicians,  this  work  is  an  interesting  novelty, 
while  its  merits  lift  it  above  the  ephemeral  fiction  of  the 
age." — Detroit  Tribune. 

"While  it  is  threaded  with  an  exquisite  love  story,  its 
charm  is  in  its  atmosphere,  the  atmosphere  of  sunny, 
music-loving  Germany,  and  of  Franz  Liszt." — Elmira 
Daily  Advertiser. 


335 


